Harry Potter and the Path of Indifference
by Born of Prayers
Summary: Harry Potter may be the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived and his parents may still be alive, but that doesn't mean everything is perfect. While he may not want anything to do with the upcoming war between Light and Dark, he'll end up walking between them. An AU fanfic involving Harry Potter as a Ravenclaw and based off Neither Light nor Dark: Steelclaws & Gray Coats.
1. Prologue

Note: Let me start by saying no one will be _actively_ bashed, it's a waste of time and effort in my opinion. Harry is not the Boy-Who-Lived, and most of the events that canon Harry goes through will happen to Gene while this Harry will have his own life and occasionally intertwine with him. Also this will probably have a slow update schedule.

All PM's and replies in a _non-constructive_ negative light, will promptly be ignored or deleted.

* * *

_Prologue:_

In the tail end of November and a fit of childhood rage, Harry Potter left his home on a nightly walk. While he would normally go places during the day, he had to get out of there instead of listening to his parents praise his paternal twin that inherited his mother's hair. The three residents failed to take notice of his absence as usual, so he strolled through the streets at night unimpeded.

Gene Potter had been the one to live in the face of the Killing Curse, which struck down his attempted murderer. To everyone else he was a hero with no explanation as to how he survived. Living off that past glory, their focus drifted from being evenly split to nearly solely on Gene, for Dumbledore foretold the return of the Dark Lord.

Pettigrew, who played with them as infants and regaled them with tales of the Marauders and how he owed it to them he had friends at all, knew he had no choice but to tell the Dark Lord their whereabouts since his death would endow the role of secret-keeper to others and eventually lead to his friends being hunted down.

So Pettigrew decided to kill the Dark Lord himself and using his ingrained cowardice to his advantage, told him where to find the children. For that reason Voldemort didn't bother reading his mind, such an act would be beneath a man of his stature for dealing with a coward. Who would suspect a coward like him to be capable of planning such a thing?

Pettigrew had stunned the two parents to feign his further loyalty so they wouldn't be killed—slipping them a note in the process—and to get the Dark Lord to lower his guard. When he tried to kill Voldemort before he took the honor of casting the Killing Curse on Gene from behind…well, let's just say his death wasn't pleasant after he refused to stand down.

And so a brave man died. Then, his murderer turned his attention back to Gene first, being the older twin, and became ashes as his spell licked and endowed the older twin with the lightning bolt scar.

By the time the Sirius arrived with Dumbledore, unstunned the pair, read the note, found the corpse, and noticed the scar on Gene's head, everything was done and Nagini was gone with the wand. Add in the prophesy (at least the first part) and they had the Boy-Who-Lived. Peter received a fairly nice send off focused on both his Gryffindor bravery and Gene's feat…

Leaving one Potter to feel negligence's cold sting.

"A pretty little number like you should know better than to come out at night, never know how you'll run into…" A hoarse came from around the corner Harry was about to pass by. "Hand over every Sickle, Knut, and Galleon you've got and maybe I'll just go away…"

Peeking over the edge, he saw a man holding a woman, who was dressed rather peculiarly, at wand point. She had a baseball cap and, rather than robes, she had a purple shirt with small sleeves, tight pants with rather exotic shoes, a sports jacket and sneakers. She had to have been a foreigner.

The woman sighed and shook her head, her blonde ponytail following behind her head by a split-second. "My first day in Magical Britain and I get jacked. Here I was thinking things weren't as bad as they were in the U.S."

"Shame about that my pretty," the mugger said, licking his lips as he looked her up and down. "Reach for your wand and I cast to kill. Be a good girl, and maybe I'll show you a good time…"

"Fair enough." The woman simply shrugged. She took her purse off her shoulder, fingering it gently, and then tossed it underhanded towards his head.

His vision was obscured for a moment, but he cast the Severing Curse. The target was her neck. The intent was to separate it from her head, resulting in death by beheading.

Had she had still been in place, her head would have been severed based on the caster's estimation. However, she got offline as soon as his vision was obstructed. Closing the gap, her first step was securing his wand arm before he could cast again. Second, she kneed him in the groin hard enough to rupture the testes, resulting in overwhelming pain.

Harry winced at the phantom pain and thought of such a fate.

The foreigner finished with delivering a blow into his stomach, forcing him to release his hold on the wand—which she promptly snapped—and then pulled out her own to stun him…then she turned to face the young wizard.

Harry shielded his groin out of instinctive fear.

She crossed her arms. "Why's a kid like you out at this time?"

"I-I was taking a walk to clear my head!" He answered, trying to decide between fight or flight, with a firm grip on flight.

"Sorry, I scared you, but guys like that one tend to put me on edge." She picked up her purse and held out her hand. "My name is Sherry. I was transferred to here from overseas to do some work. Do you live around here?"

Harry slowly reached up and shook her hand. "My name's Harry…and yes."

"A child wandering around with no parental supervision…" she shook her head. "C'mon, I'll take you back home."

The pair walked in silence part of the way. That silence was abruptly ended when Harry asked a question. "Um, why didn't you just give him your purse so he would leave you alone? You could have reported it to the Aurors later."

She turned and faced the young wizard. "Harry, do you really think he was going to just leave after he got whatever he wanted? You heard all the things he said, and his tone. He was going to do far worse. One stunner or body bind and…well, bad things could have happened to a witch. If I was lucky, he would have modified the memory so I wouldn't remember it."

Harry tilted his head. He could think of some curses James mentioned in a tirade after work…and he wasn't aware of him. "What sort of bad things?"

She tapped her wand to her cheek. "Before I answer that, how old are you?"

"I'm 8," he answered.

"Talk to me when you hit 14," she replied immediately. "There are some things you shouldn't hear at your age."

"Alright, but why didn't you just use your wand in the beginning?"

"He said he'd kill me if I did, so I showed him what he wanted before acting." Sherry gave Harry a pat on the head. "A wand is no different than a gun in the matter than they normally fire straight ahead, and the user has to direct it themselves. Blinding him, getting off line, and then stopping him from using it…I could have tried something else, but it was all I had at the moment. I would've probably plugged him if necessary—pay evil onto evil and all."

The green-eyed boy scratched his head in confusion. "What's a gun?"

Sherry blinked at the statement for a few moments and shook her head. "Harry…exactly how much about the mundane world do you know?"

"You mean the muggle world?" Harry corrected her. "Not much, why?"

"I really don't like that term to be honest, so I stick with mundane," she twirled her wand between her fingers like a baton. "But, to put it simply a gun is a simple weapon. You point, adjust for the recoil, and pull the trigger. A projectile made of metal is released faster than you can act on base reaction times. Depending on where it hits, it can kill you."

"Aren't there spells to defend against that?"

"The problem with most spells, is that you have to see it coming to cast. That takes at least a second, which is more than enough time to pull a trigger. Unless a spell is cast before the altercation or before the trigger is pulled, you _will _get hit. That's why you get off the axis _before_ the shot is fired. Same strategy works against most offensive spells really."

The youngster stepped out of the way of a cat before continuing. "How do you know this?"

"Simple, I lived in an area with a lot of non-magicals, being born to a family of non-magicals. Since the area we lived in was for those without wealth, I picked up street-smarts before I ever became a witch. I did what I had to in order to survive as I was growing up, before I attended a small magical academy, and studied with some help from old friends in normal school topics. Once I reached eighteen I went to community college on mundane subjects in order to get a degree and better education.

"In college, a few years ago, I decided to become a life consultant." She winked at the eight year old. "Do you know what you want to do when you become an adult?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't even gotten my wand yet."

"Never hurts to start thinking about these things early on. You want to move out on your own and get you own life, maybe even a cute girlfriend?"

"Umm, I—Oh look, my home is there…" Harry pointed towards the building not too far away, dodging the question. "Thanks for the escort."

"Sure," she told him, before reaching into her pockets and pulled out a card with a location. "Since you're a native, can ask you some things as soon as you have the time?"

"I guess," he pocketed the card. "I won't be busy tomorrow."

"Thanks, I'll look forward to you. Have a good night Harry."

She watched him until he entered his home and then left. Her mind slowly turning at how much different Magical Britain was compared to her home. Perhaps answers would come tomorrow.

Harry had gotten back into his home with only a small look from his parents, who said nothing more after he said he went on a walk to clear his mind. The foreigner was interesting, to say the least.

* * *

_The Next Day_

Sherry was sitting at a wooden desk when Harry arrived at her office. It was a small building, fit for a few people with a waiting room. Her desk had several books on various wizarding topics and some mundane.

"Good morning Harry," she greeted him. Her eyes had glasses on them, unlike the night before, and her cap was missing. "Did you have any trouble getting here?"

Harry sat in the chair in front of her. "Not really."

"Did you have an escort or parent?"

"I came on my own. I normally leave out on walks every day, so it's nothing really unusual." His hands tensed, as if they were ready to ball into fists. "They don't really care to be honest, so I left out when they were with my brother."

Sherry arched an eyebrow at the comment. "So your parents allow an 8 year old to go out unattended…all the time? Without you telling them where you're going? After getting in late last night?"

"Pretty much," he answered coldly. "They didn't really care that I got home late."

_Okay, I'll just file away that tidbit under negligence_, Sherry thought to herself, before getting to the questions. "Alright, let's start with your family history."

The life consultant pulled out a notepad and a strange writing tool, rather than a quill. When she saw him confused she chuckled. "You've never seen a pen before?"

"No…" He admitted.

"To put a long story short, a pen is like a quill, but the ink is already inside." To demonstrate, she wrote her name in cursive on the paper. "Now, can you tell me about your parents and heritage?"

"My father is James Potter and my mother is Lily Potter by marriage, both attended Hogwarts. Our home is the Potter Manor, with relations to the Black family—which we found out on a dare by a friend of my father and current Lord Black, Sirius Black."

Sherry bit on the end of the pen in thought. "Potter. Potter…where have I heard that name before?"

"My brother is the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry confessed somberly. He hated to admit it, since people would try to use him to get closer to Gene. He solemnly resigned to the shift in their newly formed relationship.

Her answer was not what he was expecting. "Huh, so that's why. Nice for him I guess. Moving on—"

"Wait!" Those words came out of his lips faster than he could think them. "I mean, you don't care?"

"Umm…" She scratched her head in confusion, and then spoke brutal honesty. "Am I supposed to? I mean, I heard about this Voldemort guy, but he's just another terrorist who's dead to me since I wasn't around here during that time. I'm glad he's gone, because a guy that targets infants is really not right in the head."

"But it was said that nothing magical could defeat him—not even Dumbledore."

"I do recognize they have stricter gun laws here—I'm not complaining about it—but no one thought to shoot him, snipe him, use some explosives…nothing? Even if this guy is supposedly invincible, I'm pretty sure his minions weren't to head shots."

"Only a magical being, a wizard, or a witch can defeat another," Harry ignorantly spoke the creed of most magicals in this nation.

Sherry only sighed. "Harry, didn't I just put a beat down on the guy who's probably still lying in that alley _before_ I stunned him? Magic only disables electronics, while a gun is mechanical and easily concealed. That type of thinking is exactly what wound up getting many unprepared magicals shot by mundanes and magicals who actually carried them alike—as long as they are human, and not under a protective spell, _**bullets hurt**_."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, she asked the next question. "Alright, moving on, what level of education does the average magical family receive?"

"We learn about most basic things, such as how to instruct the house elves, using brooms, the normality of magic, politics, and in general how things work around here. Once we enter school, we learn about spells, theories, and such."

"Does politics on include the magical side, or mundane as well? What about things like advanced writing, mathematics like trigonometry, chemistry, biology…" She stopped the moment he looked confused. "Okay, new subject. I believe you call those who are born without magical talents due to a birth defect _Squibs_…what jobs do they normally have in Magical Britain?"

"Umm…" Harry scratched his head. "They normally don't. Well, they can't use magic so on average, families would disown or give them enough British currency to live in the mug—I mean mundane side. The British Ministry of Magic doesn't keep their birth records. I heard mother mention a support group for them though."

Sherry undid her ponytail by removing the scrunchie and ran her finger through her hair. "And they don't contact them afterwards, maintain a relationship…anything?"

"Well, most parents say that a squib can't use magic, so it's more merciful that they be sent to live in the mundane world with no communication after a certain point."

_No wonder their wizarding population is dying here. _Sherry rubbed her forehead. _They're so closed off and behind in the times that they've grown stagnant in some parts. When I asked some of these questions at the ministry they dodged them like hell for the most._

"Let's take a break for now…" Rising out of her chair and reaching into her purse, she pulled out a shrunken, square, red bag. Once she unzipped it, it revealed several cans on ice. "Do you want something to drink? I have fruit punch, coke, sprite, and root beer."

"What's a fruit punch?"

"Try it and see," she told him, before popping the tab and handing it to him.

He took one sip from the can and nodded his head. "It's good. Where—"

Just then, an albino, bat flew in, and then around the room, before landing on an upside down 'L' pole. It had a sort of collar around its neck that had a pouch. It spanned half the length of the bat itself, which was nearly as long as the woman's hand.

Harry nearly fell out of his chair. "Merlin's Hat! Where did that come from!?"

"Relax Harry," Sherry chuckled. "He's a fruit bat. A bit like the owls you use here, but more unique."

Calming down, he looked at the bat, which was eyeing him upside down in curiosity as well. It gave a quick flap of its wings, and then dropped to take ephemeral flight over to the surface of the desk. Crawling, it looked up at him, wrinkled its nose, and gave him a quick squeak.

"You're scaring him, Albert," she handed the bat a small pineapple slice from her bag. It promptly took the fruit slice, and the life consultant placed it in a cage with dark drapes that she closed. "Sorry about that Harry. How about we get back to the questions?"

Harry nodded.

The talk continued with questions dealing with the relationship between magical creatures and non-humans, banking, the few schools for British students, and other subjects. When over an hour passed, Sherry called it quits. She removed her glasses and set them on the book stack.

"Okay Harry, I've asked enough to get a general idea of how things work over here, but to be safe I'll cross-reference other sources and books. Is there anything you want to ask me?"

"Can you tell me why you needed to know them?" The questions seemed almost basic, but she was surprisingly…disappointed from a glance.

"I told you I was a life consultant, and I came in order reach out and help young wizards and witches with their choices in life as part of an outreach program. To do that, I need to integrate myself with the British side of things, which is easier when I can accurately compare them to my own upbringing and culture…I didn't expect such a culture shock."

Harry blinked in thought before asking, "Are they really that different?"

"Yes…they are." She sighed. "Harry, don't take this the wrong way, but this place is falling apart when you look at it from an outside perspective. Maybe it was self-serving, but I came to see if I could help the young and undecided plan their goals, so that they can shape their own futures and that of this country. It's far worse than I originally thought."

Harry was offended to be honest. As a half-blooded wizard raised here, he felt some pride in his heritage and culture. He tried to maintain a passive face…

Sherry noticed anyway. "I'm sorry, but you wanted the truth, and the truth is not always pleasant. My nation boasts of some of the highest crime rates in the world—both mundane and magical—I'll admit, but forget where we came from. Try looking at it with an unbiased view before you go off the handle."

Harry thought about. She hadn't judged him for being the brother of someone famous, and gave him her full attention. He should at least hear her out. "Can you tell me some of the differences though?"

"Let's start with Squibs then." Sherry leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms. "Your ministry doesn't even keep records of them, despite them merely missing the active magical gene, yet more research has shown that the trait can be passed on even if they skip a generation or more. They can serve in integrating the mundane side of Britain with the magical side and keeping up with advancements. They could be professors of mundane studies, liaisons, or other positions, since they are essentially more familiar with the world than the average witch or wizard raised on this side—and they are passed over for not being able to use a simple spell and replaced by people without the proper knowledge."

She held up a book on non-magical history used for the Muggle Studies courses and then one called _Moronic Muggles_. "This history book is outdated by roughly 55 years _at least_ when I compared it to a secondary school level history book from Barnes and Nobles, and I was told by the shop owner it was a mandatory in most magic schools. The other is blatantly insulting and considers mundanes to be lower class and less intelligent, despite the fact that they outnumber them, and have made far more advances than listed here. The mundane-borns easily outweigh the number of pure-blooded, and are next to half-blooded magicals in totals."

Shaking her head, she continued. "I met a man named Arthur Weasley when I was at his department by chance, and he told me the requirements for a job in the relations department was only an O.W.L."

Harry spoke up. "He's a distant relative, since our families are connected by our ties with the Black family."

"He's a very sweet man, although I will admit he's a bit excitable. However, he didn't know some of the things he was dealing, or what they were for, until I pointed them out. Then he told me that the very people who deal with mundane relations or liaisons didn't even know when he asked them. I can see old families not knowing, but these are things you would expect from people in those positions…they are severely behind in some things—which brings me to my next point."

She picked out a book that read _Advanced Chemistry _on it. "Next is the educational level. Your mother was born to two non-magicals, and started her schooling at…Hogwarts, you said? So she skipped anything beyond an elementary school level, possibly meaning that outside magic she knows very little about the mundane education in things like human biology, trigonometry and calculus, chemistry, or current technology, especially considering she no longer lives on the mundane side. While magic is great and all, by failing to keep up with the times and education, you'll be completely ignorant of new developments that could be beneficial to both sides."

"Like what?"

"Trigonometry and calculus are essential for jobs like engineering and architecture, since you have to deal with advanced mathematics. Biology works to help you understand living things better, and technology advances rapidly enough that not keeping up can cost you. The world is changing Harry and being dragged to the future. If you don't adapt for the ride then you'll be crushed beneath its foot."

_Okay, she seems to have thought this through._ Harry thought. All three were fairly decent reasons. She wasn't being insulting, merely pointing out the truth in her opinion. "I get it now."

"Harry, I'm not saying that there aren't some things that are better through magic—I mean there are some things that magicals can do that make the laws of physics cry themselves to sleep like pansies—and these are my opinions alone. Just the same, form your own opinions after learning all the facts."

She handed him three books. "Here's a mundane middle-schooler's history book, the magical world's version on mundane history, and a book on how airplanes work. Compare them if you want to see for yourself."

"I'll do the first two in my free time…" Harry picked up the books. "But what's the last one for?"

"Mr. Weasley said his greatest wish was to know how planes flew," she put on her glasses again. "I'm repaying him for the earlier information, and going to his workplace solely to hand it to him could cause problems, consider how much grounding rumors can have here."

Harry acknowledged the possibility. "I'll make sure he gets it and tell him it was from you."

"Well, I won't keep you from your home any longer," she gave him a warm smile. "You really were a big help. Feel free to drop by if you ever need a life consultant or just someone to talk to."

Harry gave her a nod. "I think I will…"

Back at home, Harry entered silently and took the books into his room. Sherry's points lingered in the back of his mind. Were the mundane and magical sides really so separated that things that seemed common knowledge escaped even the people who were supposed to be experts in it?

In a flash of inspiration, Harry did something he never thought he would on his own, given how cold things were between him and his family: Talk to his mother.

"Mom," he called to her while she was in the kitchen. Her wand was being used to transfigure an object to have a more desired appearance.

"Oh, Harry," she put down her wand. "I thought you were still sleeping."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "I've been gone for the last two hours."

She merely giggled in misplaced amusement. "Well, you're normally so quiet I didn't notice."

_That's because I'm usually not here. _Harry thought. _Note to self: Never try to get their concern by running away. It won't work._

"So, what did you want?" Lily asked.

Harry asked her about several things dealing with her time in the mundane world. He learned she had a sister that she never really talked to anymore, and how distant she had become with her heritage. She was content with her life as a magical though.

"What bought this up?" Lily asked at the end of their session.

Harry merely nodded. "Nothing, just curious. Thanks for your time."

"No problem sweetie." With that, they parted.

Once in his room, he sat down and picked up the book on mundane history and started taking notes to compare the magical one later on…if he didn't fall asleep first. After only the first chapter, he found out that history was boring.

* * *

_Months Later_

Months passed, and it was nearing the holiday season.

"Hey Harry," Sherry told him. "I was finishing up early today. Right now most people are busy shopping for Christmas, so there isn't much need for a life consultant."

"Oh…" He muttered in a depressed tone. He wanted to ask her more about a topic he found interesting.

"I was planning on catching a movie later. The theater isn't that far from here," she smiled. "I live not too far from there either. Do you wanna catch a quick flick with me?"

He heard her praising a film before but never had seen a mundane one. "Yes."

"Okay, but you'll need the permission of an adult to go. It's one thing for you to visit my office so much, but leaving in private with me on your own won't look good for either of us. I'd rather not get labeled a predator."

That would be a problem. He didn't want his parents to know, and Sirius or Remus would feel obligated to tell them. It'd be easier if he knew someone who already met her…already?

Harry snapped his fingers and went to make contact with Arthur Weasley. He must have been dying to meet with her again since he gave him that book. Minutes later the elder Weasley appeared and they left the alley for London, entering a brightly lit movie theater.

Sherry exchanged some money for tickets, which caught the older wizard's attention."So that's how you exchange muggle money?"

"Yeah," Sherry nodded. "Although where I come from we use dollars. I'm sure Harry can name a few others."

The boy tilted his glasses. "Euros for the rest of Europe, Yen for Japan, and Pesos for Mexico."

"Right in one Harry," she ruffled his hair playfully. "I see you been reading that geography book I lent you."

"I see, I see…" Arthur looked around at the various posters on display for the movies. "So, what are we watching?"

Sherry shrugged. "Romantics aren't my thing. You two want to catch an action movie?"

They both nodded, and the trio caught a quick flick. Several hours later, they emerged with a satisfied look on their faces.

"Now that was entertaining!" Arthur said with glee as they walked out the theater. "I mean, the drinks, popcorn, the delectable candies, the explosions, and everything—and you tell me they did that without using a blasting charm or curse? Can you imagine what it would be like if we could add to the effects with spells, oh how I wished I had gone to the Wizarding Academy for the Dramatic Arts…"

Arthur's demeanor turned somber. "But the Stature of Secrecy won't allow for that."

Sherry sighed in agreement, before looking at her watch. "Okay, since we've still got a few hours before the sun sets. Is there somewhere you guys want to go?"

Harry rubbed his chin. "What about a bookstore?"

"The nearest one is some distance away in a mall, but if we use a bedazzling hex and then apparate, we could get there without being spotted by the number of people."

With a wave of her wand, a feeling of air forming a blanket and draping them made Harry feel sheltered. That feeling promptly disappeared and was replaced by the uncomfortable feeling of side-along apparition. He didn't think he'd ever get use to it.

After reversing the hex in the back of the building, they journeyed into the huge building filled with lights, people, and stores, brimming with life thanks to the holidays. Holding onto Harry's hand, she guided him to a Barnes & Noble's branch.

"It's like Diagon Alley, but inside a building…" Harry noted as they walked into the bookstore.

Arthur looked around at the countless books. "Do they have anything on cars?"

Sherry nodded. "They have books here for that. Just ask an employee."

"Oh goodie!" The excitable man took off.

Harry himself settled on a book on Bat Biology after getting used to Albert. The albino fruit bat was cool once you got past the original appearance and surprise. Smart too.

After picking up a book each, Sherry paid for them—with both men promising to pay her back later—and they ventured to explore the mall once more. There, they learned the various types of foods offered by the Food Court, and settled down to glance over their new books with zeal.

On the way out, they noticed loud sounds and flashing lights coming from a room with glass doors and windows that allowed them to peek in. There were mostly children there, playing and laughing—some looked shifty though. Sherry tapped her finger against her chin when she noticed the prepubescent wizard enraptured by the appeal.

"Harry, you've never been to an arcade before, have you?" He shook his head. She gave him some money and told him to go ask the nice arcade employee how to exchange it for tokens and play one of the games.

As soon as he was inside, she turned her gaze to Arthur. "Mr. Weasley, can you tell me how much Harry has been neglected?"

His look turned a bit upset. "Neglected?"

"It had been bugging me since I met him," she scratched her head. "Harry met me late one night in an alley, while I was being mugged at wandpoint."

That changed his look to one of surprise. "He was out at night alone? You were mugged?"

"At nearly 10 PM, without an adult, or any way of defending himself," Sherry confirmed. "Imagine my surprise when I put the guy down and turned to find an 8 year old staring at me from behind a corner. I escorted him home after giving him my card, and the next day he came to my office without an escort again and told me it was common. I'd expect that from maybe a latch-key kid from my old neighborhood."

Arthur pouted a bit at that. They had a long discussion with each other, and how she knew Harry was purposely keeping his parents from knowing about her. While Arthur mentioned it was a bit more common for parents to pay more attention to grooming the head of a house over time, it was unnerving the extent to which Harry had started becoming separate from his family and how they didn't seem to notice.

"Right, I have a chat with his parents on the subject." Arthur nodded as they finished and looked at Harry looking cheerful as some of the kids were teaching him how to play the game.

They spent another few hours exploring the mall and taking in the sights. Their joy only ended when Arthur asked a simple question. "Will you be willing to visit my home for our annual Christmas dinner? A friend of Harry's would be more than welcomed, and it would be perfect to repay you for your kindness."

"Sorry," she declined. "I'll be heading back to the States for Christmas and New Years to spend some time with my friends, and family."

"Oh well…" Arthur sighed, before turning his attention back to his book and chuckling. "Molly would probably loathe meeting the woman who just introduced me to a new source of endless and time consuming mirth."

Sherry herself remembered him mentioning that name before and recalled the topic. "Didn't you say you only had a few hours before you wife was expecting when we left the movie? We've been gone for five hours now."

The man paled. "Alright, we'd better get going, Harry. Molly's going to kill me for being late."

"Bye Sherry," Harry said sadly, hugging the woman.

She patted him on the head softly. "See you later, Harry."

The pair apparated back, while Sherry left for her apartment.

In front of the Potter Residence, Harry looked to Arthur with a pleading expression. "Mister Weasley, can we keep everything that happened today between us? I don't want my parents to know about her."

Arthur shook his head. "In all good consciousness, that would seem…negligent."

"They won't care." Harry countered. "I've disappeared for hours on end, and they rarely notice. They're negligent already toward me. The irony is looking delightful here."

_So she was right…_Arthur thought, before telling him, "They have a right to know."

"I disagree sincerely," Harry politely shot back. "Gene is who they are concerned for and, after so long being neglected, I don't believe they deserve to know anything about my private life in the least bit. I want my life separated from theirs as much as possible."

Arthur's eyebrows arched. "It can't be have been that bad Harry…could it?"

Harry gave him a flat look. "Today has been the best day of my life. Better than my birthday or Christmas with them. I got to play with kids who don't try to kiss up to me because of my brother—do you know how many of those I had to deal with to the point of threats? I ate food from around the world, I got to watch a movie and, best of all, I got attention from two people who actually cared about me without having to practically scream for them to notice me.

"The thought of them knowing about her and somehow, someway making things worse is enough to keep me up at night sometimes." Harry shook his head. "I won't have it."

Arthur sighed. "Alright Harry, I'll say you were with me alone if it comes up. Molly will buy that I got caught up in exploring London and dragged you along. But I'm not comfortable with it, and come Christmas I will be speaking to your parents on the subject of your wanderings without mentioning names."

"Thank you," Harry said, knowing it won't change a thing, before opening the door to his home. "See you on Christmas."

"See you then Harry." The elder wizard said before leaving with a minor pop.

Harry smiled contently and made his way up to his room to read his new book. Today was possibly one of the best days he ever had. How his mother never mentioned what a mall or arcade was and how fun they could be only made him appalled by the lack of knowledge beforehand.

While the history ones were still boring, he found them somewhat interesting as time passed. He slowly became more studious, more knowledgeable about the mundane side of things. The times were changing, so should he.


	2. Chapter 1

**So this is Hogwarts**

**Harry Potter: Age 11**

The days passed swiftly and became years somehow.

Now, on-board the train as it made its way to Hogwarts, Harry Potter flipped through the pages in his _Standard Book of Spells Grade 1_. In truth he had already bought the volumes up to Grade 4 along with his other books, although he planned to just skim through them every now and then since they weren't necessary just yet. He was a bit disappointed it didn't teach what it described as Dark Charms, so he had also spent a few extra Galleons to purchase _Curses and Counter-Curses_ by Vindictus Viridian at Flourish and Botts.

He retrieved his wand on his own by following his parents, who left them behind in their excitement for their other son and picking their pockets for the galleons needed. He had picked up a few lessons these years. While his brother had gotten a beautiful snow owl named Hedwig, Harry opted against getting a pet.

He had wanted to get a bat like Albert at Magical Menagerie, but the Hogwarts rules on paper didn't allow for anything but a toad, cat, rat, or owl...not that he wouldn't consider it at a later date once his affairs were settled. Second year maybe?

Speaking of Albert, Sherry had become Harry's best friend throughout the last few years. She often gave him advice or attention whenever she had the time, even taking him to mundane London to play in the mall arcade with a collection of kids who were more familiar with the seedier places on the continent or catch a movie with Arthur. It was through her he gained an interest in researching different topics by loaning him books or purchasing them for him as gifts during his birthday and Christmas.

She even let him use her spare wand a few times to show him some simple spells and tricks. It was carved and painted to look like one of the mundane magician and it worked better than her original for him. He could already perform a few simple jinxes and hexes at this point.

The rest of his family still didn't know who she was, or the fact that she existed. To be honest, he found their lack of concern that he often left and came back without saying anything disturbing. But that passed, and he preferred it that way.

The Boy-Who-Lived was the important one for good or bad. The less people who knew about him, the less people who'd try to kiss up to him in order to get to his brother.

Reaching the chapter in the _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_ book, he practiced the wand movements for _Steleus _hex since he didn't get a chance to try it with Sherry. Before he could get the repetition down, three boys entered his compartment and his eyes briefly looked over them.

The shortest one and assumed leader looked him up and down before asking, "I'm looking for Gene Potter. Do you know which compartment he's in?"

Harry pointed his thumb backwards. "Should be the rear one, with two others in it so I doubt you'll find space."

The boy nodded and went off with his two lackeys and things settled down once again as he went back over the motions…only for the boy and his friends to return five minutes later and crowd into the compartment. This time Harry spared them more than a glance, taking in their features.

The obvious leader was pale, with blond hair and gray eyes. He had an air of superiority to him that Harry identified as a trait of most pure-blooded families and shrugged it off. The muscle he brought along with him were pretty bulky for their ages.

"You," the blond boy stared at Harry. "I didn't get your name before."

"Harry…just Harry," he told him, not wanting to reveal his last name. "What about you three?"

"I'm Draco," the boy responded in kind, before pointing to his followers. "These two are Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry nodded in compliance. He could tell something was eating away at the trio but decided to leave it be. Gene probably had something to do with it.

Still, practicing the wand motions while in a crowded compartment would cause problems, so he sheathed his wand and the book, before pulling out a copy of his notes from _Practical Defensive Magic and Its Use Against the Dark Arts _that he read from the bookstore but couldn't buy.

As he perused over the notes, he noticed Goyle looking over his shoulder to look at the pages. The boy was growing more agitated as he read far slower than Harry did, so he decided to cater to him and slow down a bit until he dozed off along the rest of the way.

* * *

**_After the Sorting Hat_**

Harry scowled as he was bombarded by questions during the dinner all the way up to the Common Room of the Ravenclaw Tower. He got sorted away from Gene (after a Hat-Stall between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor) but the moment the word "Potter" came with his name as he was called, he was seen as a potential doorway into meeting his more renowned brother.

So far most of the Ravenclaws were more curious as to how he survived Voldemort's Killing Curse, treating it like the puzzle of the ages or a science project. Mind you, it actually _was_ a mystery that no one seemed to have figured out. He was a clue to them in order to get the solution, but unfortunately the he knew as much as they did: Nothing.

The questioning went on for what felt like hours as he tried to get his bed set up. Once he got fed up of the third-degree, he let out a deep breath of air and said, "Look, I don't know how he survived. He hasn't even given it another thought himself, not how to weaponize it or anything. He's complacent with his current standing and that's all I know."

That seemed to pacify them and they went along with their business.

"Whew…" Harry sighed as he finally got some peace and quiet. He pulled out his book out hexes again, along with a notepad and pen. It was then another person made himself known from the bunk on top of Harry's own.

"Sorry about all the questions," a boy with brown hair, green eyes, and a somewhat nervous disposition. "I've heard that they might get like that when faced with the great Potter mystery from one of the Prefects, but didn't think it would be so bad."

Harry couldn't help but stare at him with a deadpan face. "You can't be serious with that name."

Terry chuckled. "That's what everyone was whispering when your brother's name came up at dinner. I'm sure they'll act less like a cliche and more like normal people tomorrow…what's that you've got there?"

"Hm?" Harry looked over to his pen and notepad. "I'm compiling information on a letter. Using a quill and scroll is a pain with having ink lying around. I have a scroll and quill to use for assignments where it is absolutely necessary, but for my own private notes and such I'll do what I want."

The top bunk creaked as the boy dropped down to Harry's and sat next to him. "A bit late for introductions, but my name is Terry Boot."

Terry picked up the _Basic Hexes for the Busy and Vexed_ and flipped through the pages. "You've been studying hexes already?"

"And curses and jinxes." Harry added. "I already know the Stickfast hex and the Conjunctivitis curse from _Curses and Counter-Curses_, the Knockback jinx and the Glacius charm from a friend. I'm trying to learn the Tongue-Tying curse and Steleus next. Then the Stinging jinx…"

"Impressive," he said flipping through the book. "I can only do the Ventus jinx myself and some charms. Can I borrow your books sometime?"

"Mmmm…there's a lot of meaningless parts to it so I'll just give you a copy of my condensed notes," Harry said, before tipping his glasses. "But only if you'll help me. I'll need someone to practice with, so it'll be beneficial to both of us. You scratch my back, I'll scratch yours."

Terry nodded. "Deal."

* * *

**_The Next Morning_**

That morning before breakfast, Professor Filius Flitwick personally came to introduce himself in a slightly squeaky voice. "Good morning claws, I take it you are all eager to start your first classes at Hogwarts?"

He was met with a group of different agreements that sounded like a choir until Robert Hilliard, the Prefect, raised his wand let sparks fly in order to settle them down. The professor brought out a tin filled with cupcakes and made them dance, before they flew into the hands of the students.

"Now, if you have any problems feel free to come to me," he waved his wand a second time and suddenly their schedules appeared in the hands.

Harry looked at the time table:

_Monday: Potions, Herbology_

_Tuesday: History of Magic, Transfigurations_

_Wednesday: Charms, Potion, Flying, Astronomy_

_Thursday: Defense Against the Dark Arts_

_Friday: Potions, Charms_

"I will be teaching Charms personally and will be expecting great things from all of you, but I am known as having a laid-back style of teaching," the professor said in a mirthful voice. "So long as you do not disrupt the rest of the class or other student's, I will allow you to have a bit of leeway in behavior as I do all students—but just the same, do your best and keep our house's reputation upheld."

Terry, who was standing next to Harry whispered in his ear. "_We've hit the jackpot._"

Before Harry could say anything, another guy made himself known and pushed past them to make his way towards the professor. "I've heard that you were formerly a dueling champion. Is that true?"

"Indeed it is," he nodded. "I believe you are Stephen Cornfoot, correct? I do believe I have dueled your father for that title in the past."

Cornfoot gave him a polite bow. "I want to say it is an honor to be in the same house as a champion dueler such as yourself."

"I hope to say the same in the future, should you follow such a path," the Head of House snapped his fingers at that. "In addition, the D.A.D.A teacher is a former Ravenclaw graduate who has come to teach you after the position had been left vacant after the last one."

"Why did the last one leave?" One of the girls asked.

"Ah, Sue Li wasn't it?" He waited until she said it was. "There are many tales spun about the position, but so far none have lasted past a year. With any luck, it will change. Now, off to breakfast and class!"

* * *

**Monday**

_In Potions_

"Potter!" The voice of one Severus Snape cut through the classroom. The voice was lined with malice, an edge added the moment he laid eyes on Harry, who was sitting next to Terry Boot with his _Magical Drafts and Potions _book open. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry winced, knowing how unfortunate it was that he looked like James and knowing from how Sirius and he would often speak of the old days making Snape miserable (when Lily wasn't around).

He answered with, "I'm not sure. I haven't had time to go over the materials—"

The professor cut him off. "Did you think you were too good to study for my class? Hoping to coast by on the first day?"

"Not at all," Harry said. "If I had known a bit sooner which classes I had, I would have gone over the materials last night."

"You should've studied before even knowing your class, Potter. It would seem you lack the Ravenclaw's so-called wit." The professor fired back, taking a dig at the house he had been assigned yesterday. It may have stung a bit more if Harry hadn't been annoyed by the majority last night, but still it was a dig. "I had heard rumors that I should be prepared to deal with any of you willing to backstab one another for educational purposes, but it would seem you wouldn't need to worry about that if this is any indication of your dedication to education."

"But—" Harry started but was cut off.

"Pay attention, all of you! This is Potions Class. You whose house boasts wit and wisdom can read all you like, but when it comes to practical application you'll find things substantially harder. You can ask Quirrell what I mean if you doubt my words.

"In here you will learn to brew victory through the subtle science, stopper death with mystical concoctions, and seize knowledge that would make even the greatest of men concede to you—if you are as intelligent as your house claims, but given what just happened I doubt it. We'll start with the _Cure for Boils_ potion, so pair up."

He moved back to his desk at the head of the class before spinning on his heel and saying, "For the record, the answer was the Draught of the Living Dead. If you had studied _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_, which was also mandatory, you would have known what those two ingredients were for…ten points from Ravenclaw for an unimpressive start."

"But we don't have points yet," Harry pointed out.

"I can wait until they are applied and then subtract them," Snape told him.

Harry gritted his teeth as he kept his head down and looked at the book, marking the page for the Cure for Boils. He could feel the eyes of a few of the claws on him. Some in amusement, some in anger, and some mockingly—he hated it. He couldn't care less about the House Cup, but he didn't need a bull's eye on his back.

"You alright?" Terry asked, getting his cauldron out for them to use.

"If I had known what classes we were taking before this morning, I would have studied," Harry assured himself, ignoring Terry as he marked down a note to read through the two books with the small notebook and pen and stuffed it into his pocket.

The two then went to work on the potion with Harry fuming. He wanted to be angry at the professor, but let's be frank, there was no victory to be had there and Snape was mean to nearly everyone. It was his connection to James that was the problem. Luckily Snape did judge fairly on potions and Terry had some skill as well as Harry, so theirs got a passing grade before they went off to Herbology and had a few phials of it left over for personal use.

Along the way Harry was formulating a plan to deal with the whole issue between James and Snape before he became the target of the man's wrath all year and gave into the desire to shoot off a spell—

"_Fumunculus!_" said a feminine voice.

—not that it stopped someone from actually hitting him with one.

Harry had passed by the jinx _in Curses and Counter-Curses_ while studying up on the Stickfast Hex and knew what it was supposed to have felt like from a witness's review…but experiencing it was another. He had to give Snape credit about the difference between reading and practical application.

Being hit the sickly beam from behind sent a bubbling feeling throughout his body, like a really bad stomach ache that spread to the surface. The spell prickled his skin, forming the blemishes on his otherwise ordinary face. Angered, Harry spun to see that Morag MacDougal, one of the girls from his house, had cast the Pimple Jinx.

She passed by Harry, who was downing one of the Cure for Boils potion, along with Stephen Cornfoot. "Since we haven't been properly introduced, Potter, I'm Morag MacDougal, of the house MacDougal—a house that has been attending Hogwarts as Ravenclaws for generations."

"And the fact that you just did the magical equivalent of slapping me in the face has what to do with that?" Harry asked.

Morag snapped her fingers and Stephen gave him a slip of paper. "That is a schedule I'm handing out to everyone in the house. With any luck it should keep you from having us lose anymore house points from ignorance and losing the cup. Follow it and we won't have any problems."

Stephen gave her a compliment as the two started to walk off, stupidly turning their backs on someone and thinking that was the end of it. They thought wrong as his wand slid into his hand and the motion was made. You don't hex, curse, or jinx someone and act there aren't any consequences.

"MacDougal, wasn't it?" Harry said, steel in his eyes as she turned to see his wand pointing at her. "The next time you hit someone with a jinx, make sure you don't take your eyes off them when they're pissed. _Flipendo!_"

A streaking, spiraling comet of orange vacated the tip of his wand, leaving a trail of dancing sparks as it flew through the space to deliver vengeance upon the foolish girl who attacked him. The spell caught her straight in the chest, knocking her off her feet and scattering her learning material. It was really a nice coincidence that when she was knocked off her feet, she clipped Stephen and bought him down too.

"You brute!" The girl's face was turning red with rage, as was her friend.

"Pot meet kettle," he bluntly stated. "I'm telling you right now, I'm not letting you dictate my life because you want to win a stupid cup and I'm not going to be a victim of bullying. You attack me, you get attacked back, no matter how long it takes."

They stood up going for their wands—

"Is t-t-there a p-p-problem here?" A new voice chimed in. Harry, Terry, Stephen, and Morag all turned to see Professor Quirrell, who was pale and trembling as usual and kind of fidgety.

"Nothing at all Professor Quirrell," Harry said without breaking eye contact with the two who started the whole affair. Mind you, his wand was slipped into his robe sleeve with his hand, hiding it while allowing him to quick draw should he need to. "Miss MacDougal slipped and fell after handing me a Cure for Boils potion out of the kindness of her heart when some unruly student hit me from behind with a Pimple Jinx—an act that I consider terms for a conflict."

Quirrell looked at the scene and nodded. "Well, if you find the s-s-student who did so, report them at o-o-once. Ten points to Ravenclaw for sticking together."

"Thank you Professor…" Harry said with a smile and then promptly walked past the pair, followed by Terry, as they made their way to Herbology. That smile dropped once they were merging with in the incoming students into the greenhouse.

"What was that about?" Terry asked.

Harry scowled and said, "I'm a firm believer in paying evil unto evil and will not allow someone try and bully me on my first day of classes. Nor will I be herded around by someone who thinks they're the leader of the pack."

Unbeknownst to many, Harry had to often deal with rejecting people who claimed to be friends in order to mingle with his brother. Some of his rejections came off on people the wrong way and he may have been forced to make his point clear through gratuitous use of the knee to the groin technique when they tried flaunting muscle or use force. One of the benefits of going to the mall arcade was you met mundane kids from all walks of life and they can teach you so much.

Once lunch came around he grabbed a bite and proceeded to the Library to write out a schedule of his own with a map of the school grounds pulled out and marked down a spot near the lake and the Quidditch pitch where he could get in a morning jog and maybe some spell practice with his pen:

_6 am: Wake Up & Jog_

_7 am: Spell Practice (Private spells)_

_8 am: Come Back, Shower & Breakfast_

_9 am: Classes_

_12 pm: Lunch_

_1 pm: Break (Study alternative materials and practice class spells)_

_7 pm: Supper_

If he was getting into altercations this early into the year, it would not end well for him to be out of practice. He also combined through his previous notes written for his own spells and made a copy for Terry, as promised.

* * *

**Tuesday Morning**

Fire laved Harry's lungs as he took a jog in the early morning at Hogwarts. Yesterday hadn't been as smooth as he would have liked and he made sure to jot that down in a letter he planned to send to Sherry later on in the week.

Being only eleven, he had youth on his side, but not as much stamina as he liked. He found that out jogging on the grounds around the castle, which wore him out before he took a minor break. Harry had no plans on doing anything like Marital Arts (although he acknowledged a shot to the groin and street fighting were useful) because most wizards only get close when in a duel for intimidation, after the curse had been cast.

Next he went over to the spot he marked for practice casting spells. Repetition on its own and without a practice partner was boring. However, it served to ingrain muscle memory and intention onto him, eventually allowing him to cross over into the borders of silent casting and wandless magic, as well as increase his magical stamina.

During this particular training period, he focused solely on one spell, _Flipendo._

The intention was to knock the opponent back, and so he visualized the image of his brother, whom he had less than pleasant feelings for and acknowledged as such, taking the full weight of a blow. The motions shaped the spell and gave it form, converting the intention to give it a physical form. The incantation pulled the trigger, firing the spell out in a streaking display of orange.

Letting out a deep breath, he fired again and again, keeping up the practice until his arm ached and he noticed it was time to go back inside for a shower and breakfast. After that he went to History of Magic, which he thought would be more interesting than normal history whenever he tried to read about it with Sherry.

He was wrong. Oh so very wrong.

From that day on, Harry swore he would study for History of Magic away from that voice—boring was one thing, but Professor Binn's reciting the text in that flat tone was another! Being taught by a ghost that seemed to have no interest in relating to or even minding his student was the pinnacle of boredom.

After the first half-hour of trying to tank the lesson, Harry brought out notepad, pen, and _A Beginner's Guide to Transfigurations _and started jotting down notes for his next class, opting to utilize the time efficiently. Some others had the same idea, like Padma Patil and Isobel MacDougal, while others decided to get some sleep, like Terry, Stephan, and Sue Li.

When the bell signaled the end of class, they couldn't get out fast enough.

Terry yawned and scratched his head. "I think that was the best nap I ever had. They should hire him to help the more insomniac guys in our tower to get to sleep."

"I wish I had bought head phones, earmuffs, or something to plug up my ears," Harry said, before pulling out one of his spare pocket notebooks with a copy of his spells on it. "Here's the spell and notes I had on them as promised. See you out for practice tomorrow?"

Terry gave a curt nod as they entered the Transfiguration class, which to Harry's disappointment he learned was not one of his strong suits. That was a shame because the things you could do with it boded well for the creative. As he sat between both Terry and Padma Patil, along with Sue Li next to her and Anthony Goldstein was next to Terry, he found himself desperately trying to turn the damnable match into a needle.

After two dozen tense minutes he spied the completion and noted that the only a handful of the Ravenclaws had gotten it done and one of them was Padma. With eyes shifting back and forth, he whispered her name and asked, "_Say, do you have any tips on this for me?_"

She looked at him cautiously, debating if she should. Seeing how she was struggling and recalling the lecture early about backstabbing, Harry put it in a different perspective, "_Look at it this way, you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours. You ever need help on an assignment, help me on one. Deal?_"

The mental debate was raging once again, but once she caught Morag staring at her, she ultimately refused with a shake of her head. "_Sorry…_"

Harry wasn't happy, so he bit the inside of his cheek. If what Snape had said was true, then he wouldn't be able to get help in-house if he had school problem because of their competitiveness with each other. MacDougal probably laid pressure on the girls against helping him if they planned to. Maybe he would have been better off a Hufflepuff or Gryffindor in that case—he'd have to make some out-of-house friends.

_Thump._ When there was a minor thump against his head, he looked down to see a balled up parchment lying on the floor and picked it up. Unraveling it revealed a note:

_Break it down step by step; isolating it in your mind like nothing else exists._

_-Isobel_

_P.S. Loved you knocked Morag down a peg, keep it up._

Harry glimpsed back and gave a minor nod to the younger MacDougal before tearing it up discreetly. It goes to say that the younger siblings didn't always get along with the older ones. Harry went back to trying to change the match for the rest of the period with partial luck, but he probably lacked James talent in that and wouldn't miss any sleep over it.

In Charms on Wednesday the Head of House of the claws eagerly jumped into the lesson after making a pineapple dance. Entertaining and a quick intro charms before the educator got on with the lesson.

"Alright, everyone bring out your copies of the _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1_," Professor Flitwick requested as he conjured a standard lock onto each of their desks. "To start simple, we will begin with the Unlocking and Locking charms."

Harry had already gone over the spell and knew it already after that little fiasco with Snape. Just because Flitwick was a lenient with people in class, it didn't mean he wouldn't fail them during exams and Harry suspected he'd get more MacDougals and Cornfoots on his case if he didn't get it down perfectly. The fact that he could cast a Glacius charm was moreover due to who he practiced with and how long, on average he'd rate himself in charms as…average, he guessed.

Now that he thought about it, Stephen and Morag seemed to have stepped off after that little warning he gave them. Maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all. Then again, it had only been two days.

_The unlocking spell would make breaking and entering into a mundane's home or property a piece of cake_, Harry thought. _Done wandlessly and silently it would be useful, but since there are spells that makes locks and doors immune to them, it does little good for a magical short of being lazy._

The fact that the thought crossed his mind was courtesy of the three years he spent under Sherry's wings and listened to tales of her past. She was a naughty girl at his age, lock-picking, pick-pocketing, and getting into fights. She may be a good girl now, but beforehand she was a wildcat.

That Thursday morning had started with a jog and then a quick trip to wake Terry up and drag him out to help Harry practice his spells.

Defense Against the Dark Arts was what Harry found solstice in. Professor Quirrell was a bit nervous and disorientated, but he was knowledgeable about what he preached.

"Welcome all of you to DADA: Defense Against the Dark Arts," he told the class as they poured in. It was a double today and they were paired with the Gryffindor of the same year. "Since it is your f-f-first year, you will learn the basics of defending against Dark Arts including Dark Charms and Dark Creatures. Any questions before we begin?"

"Will we be learning how you use any of the Dark Charms this year?" Harry asked. That got him some leery eyes. It wasn't a question you'd ask, especially not so eagerly for a member of a 'light' family. "What? It's a perfectly legitimate question."

"Define what you mean by Dark Charms?" Quirrell asked. "While we do cover most jinxes, hexes and curses are kept s-s-simple. Nothing too serious beyond the usual pranks some of you kids pull off…this year."

"This is how to defend against them," Hermione Granger from the Gryffindor side said. "We're supposed to learn to counter them."

"Maybe, but to defend against something you need to experience it and therefore use it," Harry countered. "Curses can be as good a defense as an offense."

"Stunners, disarming, and restraining spells cover that and should be used in urban combat against other wizards," Gene Potter threw in his lot. Since he was James-taught when it came to Auror tactics, which was no surprise. "Suppressing the enemy is sufficient in most cases. The use of a serious curse is a bit overkill on a person."

"Ravenclaw Potter is right," Stephen chimed in. He didn't have like Harry and would love to hex him after that stunt he pulled, but it was a fair question and answer. "Dueling in the past was essentially the use of malevolent magic to bring an enemy down. Modern rules may have softened it to this formal bow and face each other state, and some arts are now considered too 'dark', but that hasn't changed since even enough stunners can kill. It's why most of us Pureblood nobles don't waste time on the new garbage they feed you Newbloods."

"What's that supposed to mean?" snapped one Dean Thomas. He caught the implied supremacy Stephen felt, since Newblood was just above Mudblood and under Muggleborn. "I had heard that Slytherin was the dark and bigot house, but—"

"The individual opinions do not reflect opinions of the house," Morag shot up. "And there's nothing wrong with being curious."

"We are g-g-getting off topic," said Quirrell, before a debate could start up…one with pre-teens, short tempers, and wands. "What one defines as Dark has a very broad meaning and if you wish to d-discuss this we can do so in a later date. For now, since this is our first class, we'll go over the basics and an elementary curse."

He brandished his wand and asked, "I-Is there anyone who would like to volunteer? Maybe someone from the lions would d-d-demonstrate a little Gryffindor bravery?"

"Since Harry asked, let him do it!" Ron Weasely stated. They didn't have a good history. While Harry liked Arthur and was fairly close to him over the three years, but his boys were either too uptight (Percy) or too mischievous (Twins) for anything casual.

…Then again, Harry would admit he wasn't exactly perfect. Ron may have had a small grudge from the time Harry reverse-pickpocketed him for practice and slipped in one of the pranks that his brothers tried to play on him. It wasn't anything personal, but try telling him that.

"Fine," he said after muttering 'pansies' under his breath. "Can you give an overview of the curse as we go along and the counter-curse or cure?"

"I intended to," Quirrell stated, waiting for the Potter to make his way up to center of the room. "We'll start with a simple curse: Curse of the Bogies. _Mucus ad Nauseam!_"

The spell gathered at the tip of his wand for a brief moment as he made a tear drop motion, an ominous greenish color loitering there. With a flash of intent it leapt from the wand and nailed Harry straight in the face, where it scattered like polluted water blanketing him. Then it kicked in and Harry got the joys of a flu/cold.

"This curse basically makes someone sick. With a bit of powering it can become doubled or tripled in power. While relatively harmless to both magicals and muggles alike in this state and because of increased health care, in the older days it would have been considered a lethal weapon, as sickness could significantly hamper one's lifestyle."

"If the threat level for it has died then why is it still taught?" Lisa Turpin asked. "I mean other than for a prank. Shouldn't it be downgraded to a jinx or hex?"

"Because even a simple curse has its uses," Harry Potter answered, sniffling and coughing while covering his nose. "It can be used well, being such a deceitful spell, and is potentially useful if the target doesn't know they been hit by it—say if they were sleeping. In dueling terms, you can't aim a wand right or cast a spell properly or for long if an illness is sapping your strength, watering your eyes, and making you sneeze. If you were to use it to feign illness for someone and they died from the illness, you would be hard pressed to have someone look much into it—especially if the person in question is elderly or young since those age ranges have a higher mortality rate for mundane."

"That is c-correct mister P-Potter," the teacher said with a nod. "I find your listing the morality age-range of muggles somewhat a bonus."

Harry shrugged. "I've read up on mundane facts at a…friend's behest and got some interesting facts down."

"How studious, I imagine you'll d-d-do well in Muggle Studies," the Quirrell in him applauded, having had the former position in Muggle Studies making him somewhat appreciative of the knowledge in contest of Riddle. "Fifteen points to Ravenclaw for y-y-y-your answer, insight, and volunteering."

"Thanks," Harry said, before sneezing and wishing someone would conjure him a tissue. "Counter-curse now?"

"Oh right," he undid the spell and did a quick cleaning charm to make him look presentable. "Now everyone practice getting the wand motion d-d-down and then we'll move onto p-p-practice casting."

After class ended and during lunch Harry decided to go to the library and do more research into his weak points so far, but along the way he was halted by three boys from the house of Slytherin. It was the three he met on the train, the leader of whom held out his hand and asked, "What's your game, Potter?"

"Draco, wasn't it?" Harry asked. "Call me Harry, and what game?"

"You never introduced yourself as the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry's response was blunt and to the point. "Because I don't like being known as the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Why'd you sell him out on the train?" Draco asked. "He was your family. Selling out your brother…what was in it for you?"

"Define what family means and we'll go into the reasons why," Harry said with a slight chill in his voice. "I've heard about your rivalry with Gene and that is your own business, Draco. As long as I or someone else I like doesn't get dragged into it or seriously injured, we're kosher. I have heard about how your house is through second hand information, but I have nothing against them personally as long as they don't try to screw me over."

Draco studied Harry carefully before walking away with his hired muscle. "Be seeing you Potter."

"Harry's fine," he told him a final time and got back to going to the library.

Inside he gave a brief nod to Madam Pince and Caretaker Filch, who were discussing something and made his way to an isolated section of the Library that no one visited: The History Section. There he could read without anymore interruptions.

* * *

**_The Next Morning_**

Between the Quidditch Pitch and the castle, the field had several outcroppings and trees that made for excellent targets during private proactive. When you had a partner, it was more suited for basically Spell Tag.

"_Steleus!_" Harry bellowed and small, green rings vacated his wand to hit Terry Boot, who had finally dragged into helping him for his notes. Terry wasn't a morning person and couldn't dodge the spell in time. Still the fact that he was sneezing up a storm did help show that the spell was working and he had gotten down the hex. Terry still had some fight in him as he pointed his wand at Harry.

"_Ventus!_" he proclaimed and red-rimmed, white light emerged. The jinx created a spiraling gust of localized wind that barreled forward and ruffled Harry's robes as he dodged…and then Harry froze and looked behind him, eyes darting around.

"What's wrong?" Terry asked.

"I thought I heard someone…" Harry said, right before there was a jerk on his left leg and Harry was hoisted into the air and hanging by his ankle. He could only sigh. "Only one person would pull this off. I see James taught you _Levicorpus,_ Gene."

From underneath an Invisibility Cloak, Gene and Ron appeared. Gene looked like he had woken up early and was well-rested, while Ron looked like he was frazzled, but pissed off. He must've been the one who yelped at the gale that rustled the cloak.

Harry glared at his brother. "You have mere seconds to drop me or I will make things unpleasant for you."

"You sure about that?" Gene asked somewhat mockingly. "You're kind of stuck in the air. Anyway, we need to have a long talk about consorting with Slytherins and your interest in the Dark Arts."

"What of it?" Harry asked.

"You're talking to a Malfoy for Merlin's sake," Gene argued. "Do you know some of the things his family has done? Plus you told him where I was on the train and then told him that you were on his side. What would Dad and others think?"

"I couldn't care less what you or the rest think. His family isn't whom I was just talking it up with and I have nothing against Draco Malfoy," Harry said. "As I was saying to him, his fight is with you, not me, and I'm not taking sides. As long as he doesn't expect me to conform to his rhetoric and violate any boundaries I have, we're galleon."

Unable to listen to this, Ron spoke up. "You'd sell out your family? To snakes of all things?"

"Being related by blood doesn't make you family," Harry stated. "If that were the case, all of us would be related to the Malfoy's through the Black family and he would be family too."

"That snake is not my family!" Ron stated with heat in his voice that could rival the color of his hair. "What next, are you going to sell out to Dark Magic?"

"Depends," Harry said. "How dark are we talking?"

Gene scowled and yelled, "This isn't a game! Everyone knows you can't trust a snake! All three houses rarely interact with them for a reason—they'll backstab you for house points alone! Are you trying to become a pariah, working with the enemy?"

"I couldn't care less if I am a pariah, Gene." Harry said. "I have no interest in house points or the little competition between the houses, that already makes me one among some of the Ravenclaws, who seem to prize wit and horde their knowledge if the loudmouth girl and Snape spoke right. Honestly, we've been here for less than a week and you're starting a war between the houses.

"Also, you do realize that I still have my wand in my hand and it has been several seconds, correct?" Harry warned, before casting, "_Flipendo!_"

The Knockback Jinx was fire at Gene's legs, taking them from under him and sending him on a trip to the ground. Unfortunately, all those Qudditch lessons for James left him with rather good reflexes, and used his forearms to prevent a meeting of his skull with the ground. Still, no eye contact meant his spell stopped and Harry picked himself up.

He readjusted his glasses and watched his brother glare at him. "Don't give me that look. You started it by interrupting my practice with Terry. If you want to lecture someone, go do it to one of your fans. Otherwise I'll show you the standard I've set when dealing with those who would do me harm or control me."

Gene got into a dueler's stance. "I've done what others failed to do as a baby. You can't beat me."

"And that right there is why I can't stand you," Harry sighed, before putting on a slasher smile. "You killed Voldemort as a baby, with no idea how to replicate the process. Instead of riding on the coat tails of the past, why haven't you strived to accomplish something else? Dumbledore is known for this bout with Grendwald, but at least he still continues, such as his research into alchemy. What about you? Have you at least attempted to recreate the feat that enabled you to survive or try to weaponize it?

"You and the others cling to your past glory, yet the moment you think I sway to the side opposite of yours and could become a liability, you take an interest after so long…" Harry brandished his wand. "I'm not your enemy, but I sure won't be your ally in your stupid little house war."

"Ron, can you handle the other one?" Gene asked his friend. "This is between us and I don't want interference. Talking to him is pointless if he's so dead set on siding with the enemy."

"Terry, stay out of this," Harry warned. "This is between us alright, but I'll need someone to help carry him to the infirmary when we're done. Ronald isn't exactly strong enough to lift his own weight, let alone someone else's."

Then things got really serious—or at least as serious as they could get between two eleven year olds who didn't know any really dangerous curses yet.

"_Steleus!_" Harry cast the first spell. The green rings surged towards his brother, a mostly harmless hex to hamper his spell casting. He planned to follow up with a Knockback Jinx for good measure once it hit.

Gene ducked and twirled his wand in a tight spiral motion to cast, "_Expelliarums!_"

The Disarming Charm closed in through a ray of crimson light that illuminated Harry's vision before he spun on his outer leg and got off line in time to avoid it nailing him in the chest. Careless of him, he shouldn't have stood still. Harry got back to moving as he cast the Knockback Jinx again and again.

Gene Potter avoided the jinx that flew past him and nearly toppled over his best friend, lining up the Disarming Charm and firing as he moved. It seemed as though he was only taught that one spell for offense or favored it. Makes sense, seeing as Harry had been practicing longer with Sherry and Gene must've gotten his wand mere days after receiving his Hogwarts letter.

"_Colloshoo!_" Harry aimed at the estimated guess of where his brother was moving and the Stickfast Hex nailed the ground, creating a green mire that caught his left foot before he could stop, leaving him open for the Curse of the Bogies, "_Mucus ad Nauseam!_"

"_Protego!_" The incantation produced a small flair of bluish-rimmed, white as a quick shield and blocked the curse made of greenish maleficuim. It was weak and couldn't deflect, but he was only a first year and still got it down. Most adults couldn't do more than that.

_Figures James would teach him, being an Auror and all,_ Harry figured as he navigated the various outcroppings that lied on the practice field, only to eventually be caught by a Trip Jinx by Gene. He tumbled as the crimson ray of a Disarming Charm followed and narrowly missed him when he rolled, coming back up with a Knockback Jinx.

The jinx was blocked and Harry took cover, before slipping out of his robe and tossing it out to the left, where it got the Disarming Charm treatment as he came around at the right and cast, "_Mimble Wimble!_"

A cold sensation washed over Gene and forced his tongue to curl backwards, making it impossible for him to cast another spell without silent casting skills. Harry had gotten him and leveled his wand for a Curse of the Bogies spell…

"Gryffindor Potter! Ravenclaw Potter!" Snape appeared from the direction of the castle. Terry had hidden himself and Ron was under the cloak. "There is no dueling on the grounds! Detention, both of you!"

A detention wasn't really all that bad, at least not to Harry.

Sadly, Gene ran his mouth off in imitation of his father the moment the Tongue-Tying Curse had been dispelled and muttered a word he shouldn't have. "_Snivelus._"

The air promptly went cold and Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge, a chill passing through his as the professor's gaze could petrify a Basilisk. His fingers curled, as if deciding how he wanted to punish them. "I should have expected nothing less from James' spawns. A Hundred points and three weeks detention for both of you! Say that again you'll get worse."

"What did I do?" Harry asked.

When his words fell on deaf ears he followed the professor inside the building and into his office, where the man sat down in his chair and faced the student. "What is it Ravenclaw Potter? Have you decided to get a head start on your sentence?"

"With all due respect Professor, I can understand the first detention on my part, even if I was only retaliating. But I will not be given extended detentions for something my brother did."

"A pity you have no say on the matter," he responded. "Now get out or it'll be double the amount."

Harry refused to move. He would not have it. "Professor, let us lay it all on the table now. I know about your rivalry with James and Sirius."

"Is that so?" He barely spared the boy a glance. "Do enlighten me then, Ravenclaw Potter. Also, that two hundred points also deducted and a month's detention."

"I know that they bullied you, humiliated you, and kept doing so without considering the consequences even to this day." Harry stated factually, earning the man's ire.

"Three months detention and four hundred house points!" He snarled. "Now leave!"

In truth, Harry wanted to do just that. It seemed like this was a bad idea in the long run, but kept going since he was in too deep at this point. "James and Sirius still occasionally gloat. I'll spare you the details, but I can understand why you look upon my brother and me in contempt."

Snape pulled out his wand. He had no intention of doing anything lethal or harmful really to one of Lily's sons (or any other student...really), but the brat was grating on his nerves. Before he could silently cast the _Langlock_, Harry spoke seven words:

"_**Cast and you'll be just like them.**_"

The professor stopped and Harry let out a small breath he had been holding without realizing it, the tension in his chest melting away. "The past cannot be changed, but whatever your grievances with them, I must ask that you don't take it out on me. I am not James. I have shown you nothing but respect to the point that I came here and tried to discuss this rationally rather than going directly to another professor or causing a scene."

Snape's lips pursed as he mulled the words over and he lowered his wand. "Make your point already, Ravenclaw Potter."

"Be the better man," Harry told him. "Don't sink to their level and be petty. I'm all for paying evil unto evil, but treat me as a student and not the spawn of James."

Snape's eyebrow arched. "I noticed you didn't include your brother?"

A thin smile decorated Harry's lips. "He crossed a line and insulted you knowing full well what he was doing. While I doubt his Head of House will stand by and let so many points be deduced, he deserved his punishment."

"Are you certain you aren't merely reveling in his punishment?"

Harry smirked wider and pushed his glasses up. "A bonus really…"

Snape gave a low nod, barely visible behind his steepled fingers. "I'll consider your…offer, but nevertheless you still have detention. Report this evening after dinner…in fact, I suggest not eating. You and your brother will be milking Flubberworms for their mucus for as a reagent for Wiggenweld potions later on in the year."

Harry shivered. Milking a ten-inch worm that dribbled mucus out both ends was never a pleasant thought. The smile Snape got from the reaction was less than pleasant as well. Still, he answered, "Fair enough."

As Harry made his way out of Snape's office and back to the spot where all of his stuff was still with Terry, he never noticed Quirrell watching him silently or the interest the Dark Lord on the back of his head had. Voldemort could see an inclination towards dark arts, and a desire for the proper admiration…

He could be used if Quirrell took the proper steps, and with the whispering in his ears, it became clear he would take those steps. Having one Potter fall to the darkness and battle the one of light would be delicious irony against the two spawn that Petergrew saved.

* * *

Notes:

Harry's no saint in this fanfic, that role is Gene's. He will not be the next Dark Lord either, nor will Gene be the ultimate jerkass cocky boy. The lack of character depth and stereotypical portrayals in these types of fanfics is astounding for the opposing sibling. In fact, the only one I've seen that portrays the other twin as somewhat decent after years is **Deprived** by **The Crimson Lord**.

Mind you, these are my opinion only and it could be that I simply haven't found or read a similar story in that light. There are way too many HP fanfics out there.

Hopefully, no one will be overpowered. Overpowered is boring. Boring is...well, boring. That being said, expect a somewhat slow release date for the work.

This is obviously AU and as such some facts will be changed. Including Parseltongue being an inherited trait from their distant ties to the Gaunts through who were descendants of Slytherin. But more on that if I ever get to Year 2. Information on it and spells are gleamed off the wikia.


	3. Chapter 2

**How To Kill A Troll & Destroy a Howler**

**_Early October_**

_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

Professor Quirrell scurried down the hall with his class in tow in the Hogwarts Turris Magnus, just off the Serpentine Corridor, not too far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. With a flick of his wand, the door to a classroom opened and they filed in and sat in the circling desks like a college room. Once all inside, he shut the door and extinguished the light, bathing the room in darkness.

"Now we are about to begin a special lesson on Dark Creatures," the professor said. "This room is normally used for Ghouls Studies, but there hasn't been enough interest lately to hold the class. It has a special material sprinkled about to make maintaining spectral species easier and the darkness will make it stand out."

"Why aren't you stuttering?" A student asked.

"Anti-Stuttering Potion," he lied. The professor then conjured a pack of ghostly dogs with forked tails and white fog rolling off them in waves and licking the professor's outfit as they illuminated the area around him before pacing the room.

"What you are seeing are a species of spectral dogs that only come out at night normally called _Gytrash_. They are renown creatures that have been known to appear on lone roads and help lost Muggles find their way or get them lost further, depending on their mood. Many are drawn to the location of Hogwarts because of the magic and several older students have had run-ins with natural forming ones on the grounds later at night."

"If they're spectral in nature, how can they harm us and be considered a Dark Creature?" Isobel MacDougal asked while trying to pet one that passed by. It looked at her and then settled down on her desk, where she could touch it and feel the cold sensation of its body. "Speaking of which, I can't think of any spells that conjure spectral creatures—illusions maybe, but not these."

"Actually, it is a spell of my own and most spectral creatures are able to give themselves a minor bit of substance to interact with the living, less than a poltergeist at any rate," Quirrell said. "One of the benefits of Ghoul Studies was that it covered the theory behind it and other spectral creatures before Peeves drove the Instructor through a wall in madness."

"Don't you mean up a wall?" Harry asked.

The professor shook his head. "Literally. In my time, Peeves would pester whatever students attended until participation dropped and no one took it, canceling the class. Then something happened to Instructor, who put themselves through a wall with a spell…pity."

_I wonder if he can do bats,_ Harry mused to himself. A ghostly version of Albert would rule.

"So, does anyone know how to drive off a Gytrash?" Professor Quirrell asked. When a hand went up, he had one of them sit on the desk in front of the student. "Miss Edgecombe?"

Marietta Edgecombe pointed her wand and cast the spell, "**_Lumos!_**" A light appeared at the tip of her wand, driving the darkness of a small area away…while the Gytrash just sat there. "Okay, that's supposed to work…"

"Ah, my conjurations are more resistant to the basic light spell because of several factors. They can roam around in the daylight should I wish it," Quirrell added. "Anyone else? I'm not expecting a Patronus or anti-spectral spell, but something just a bit more powerful."

This time both Harry and Stephen Cornfoot raised their hands and each was assigned a Gytrash.

"_**Lumos Duo!**_" Stephen went first, casting a charged Lumos that connected his wands end to the blackboard and then ran an intense light through the Gytrash, scattering it into a cloud of vapor. He looked over to Harry and gave him an expression that seemed to say, 'Beat that!'

Harry narrowed his eyes to and accepted the challenge, casting a spell taught by Sherry during the times she let him practice with her spare wand, "_**Lumos Solem!**_" An intense, bright beam of narrow light pierced his Gytrash through the forehead and euthanized it. He gave the other boy a glance with a smug smirk on his face.

"Good show, both of you," Quirrell tipped his turban slightly to them. "Lumos Duo is an enhanced version of Lumos that can also be used to deal with Hinkypunks and normally taught third year. The other is a variation of the first that draws on a greater concentration of light in a tighter space. Ten points to Ravenclaw."

The class proceeded with them taking notes on the creatures before letting out, where Quirrell held Harry behind. "Mister Potter, a word?"

Harry stayed put as the classroom emptied and asked, "Yes, Professor?"

"Over the last few weeks I've heard you've been getting into several arguments with your fellow Ravenclaws…some violent. Is that true?"

"They keep blowing me off when I ask for help because I don't know something," Harry said. "As for violent, Morag MacDougal hit me with a Full Body-Bind Curse and Pumpkin-Head Jinx (_Melofors_) before lighting the top of it with an Fire-Making Charm, claiming I was a new Halloween decoration. I felt spiking her goblet with a Bulgeye Potion and then hitting her with a Conjunctivitis Curse was simply paying evil unto evil…it just so happens that the nurse was out of Oculus Potion then."

In Morag's defense, he shouldn't have laughed when a Devil's Snare got too handsy. Professor Sprout wasn't sure if it was trying to kill her or get to second base. Not that her sister didn't have a good chuckle later.

The professor nodded. "Retaliatory pranks aside, it was much like that during my time in that house. It is a fatal flaw of Ravenclaws to horde our knowledge and lead academically, to the point of competitiveness. Much like Gryffindors are known for rushing in without thinking, Hufflepuffs for being neutral in conflict, and Slytherins for being cunning and occasionally backstabbing. "

"It doesn't help that I'm not going along with Ron and Gene managing to get most of the Gryffindors of their year to see me as a traitor in their campaign to isolate the House Slytherin," Harry added. Just because he found some of the knowledge and families there interesting, suddenly he was going dark. It was none of their business. "They aren't helping their case by isolating them, which will only lead to the house eventually lashing back out."

"Kids are cruel," Quirrell agreed. "Unable to see the big picture in the long run. It is much the same with magic. I once asked myself, what truly separates Light and Dark from each other?"

"What'd you come up with?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," he answered. "You can pretty it up as much as you want, but even light casts a shadow, and there is always light within the darkness. The two are opposites of the same coin, but that doesn't mean one is better than the other. After all, the only difference is really just power and power doesn't take sides."

"Power is indiscriminate…" Harry muttered. "Yeah, it's only the intent that drives it that taints it."

"Power also commands respect. Isn't that what you want Harry?" He asked. "You want to be respected, to not be looked down upon by your classmates for your interests or not yielding to their standards, and acknowledged as more that than the brother of the Boy-Who-Lived? To receive satisfaction from the fruits of your labor?"

Harry nodded enthusiastically and Quirrell offered him a scroll. "What's this?"

"It's the spell I created using some more…questionable sources of knowledge including Ghoul Studies," he said. "It may be above your skill level, but if you can successfully make it work you can do more interesting things like use it as a method of spying and communication. If you are interested in further studies, I'll teach you more on the magic and Dark Arts—both defensive and otherwise. Consider it like…an apprenticeship. "

"With me?" Harry asked. "Why?"

"Because I was in your shoes before, disliked by many and helped by few," he said. "But this arrangement is meant to be kept secret. You already have enough problems with the other Ravenclaws as is, no need to add fuel to the fire or risk it getting stolen…"

Harry nodded. Snape's spells were stolen from his copy of a book he wrote as Sirius once mentioned, and they used that very same spell to bully him. Besides, outside of Terry and Isobel occasionally, none of the other Ravenclaws have been too forthcoming with their knowledge. Why should he spread it around?

"I accept!" Harry answered gleefully.

* * *

**_Time skip to Halloween._**

_Charms Class_

"Who can tell me the difference between the Levitation Spell (_Levioso_) and the Levitation Charm (_Wingardium Leviosa_)?" Professor Flitwick asked. Two hands darted up, Padma Patil and Hermione Granger, who seemed to have hit it off with their studious nature. Sue Li, Ron, and Gene were next to them. "Miss Patil first, what are the differences in their origins."

Padma cleared her throat and answered with, "The first was one of the first spells recorded in the wizarding world and created in Ancient England while the second was developed in 1544 by one Jarleth Hobart."

"Correct!" He pointed his wand to Hermione next. "Miss Granger, what are the limitations of them both?"

"The first requires you to tap the object you want to float, but you can't move it at all. While the second let's you control where you float it remotely, but it doesn't work on humans—just their clothing, which are doing the lifting."

"Correct as well!" Flitwick conjured feathers for everyone to work with. "If you want to move a body with little to no clothing, there's the_ Mobilicorpus_ or a similar spell. Now, everyone will try the _Wingardium Leviosa_ and get the feather to float."

They did so, with Harry struggling a bit. Gene got it down with ease, as did a few others like the MacDougal sisters, Hermoine, and Padma, but they were basically the only ones. Near the end of class, Harry overheard Ron offending Hermione as the class let out. Padma followed her out in hopes of offering some comfort.

After Quirrell came in during the Halloween Feast, Harry pulled aside Terry in order to retrieve Padma to get back to the common room. While he wasn't really close to anyone barring Terry in the house, they seemed to be the only ones who remembered she had left to go after the Gryffindor. Worst case scenario was just losing points, which weren't all that important to Harry.

As they turned the corner they bumped into Ron and Gene near the first floor girl's bathroom. Harry looked at his brother and asked, "What are you two doing here?"

"It's not in the dungeon, not anymore," Ron said. "We just locked the troll in the bathroom."

"**AHHHHH!**" The screams of the two girls sent chills up all four of their spines as they realized that the bathroom was still occupied. They all got their wands out.

"**_Alohomora!_**" Gene said, performing the Unlocking Charm, opening the door and showing that the girls were hunkered down in the last stall and the Troll had its club raised in the air to smash it.

"**_Spongify!_**" Terry cast first. A pink bolt vacated the tip and the spell hit the club and turned it into little more than a giant foam bat…at least until the spell ran out.

As the Troll bashed his softened club against the stall it noticed it did no damage, bending back like it was made of rubber. Confused, it scratched its head and tried again. It wasn't the smartest tool in the shed.

"**_Relashio!_**" Harry casted the Revulsion Jinx, unleashing a purple burst of light that nailed the troll's hand and forced it to release the club. He would have to thank Quirrell for the lesson in it. He followed it up with a Stinging Jinx, "**_Fodio!_**"

It came out as a white flare bolt and stung the flesh, causing what would have been excruciating pain in a human, but against the massive backside it would do significantly less. So he fired a second time…at where he imagined the danglies would be. The troll howled and looked into the direction the quartet of boys were and glared with eyes that screamed bloody murder.

"Think I made it mad enough?" Harry asked, backing away slowly with the rest in a sense of panic at the creature three times his height and more than a bit miffed. It didn't need a club to bash their heads in as it took a step towards them.

Terry swallowed. "Well, I can imagine I would be if I got hit there be that jinx."

"Anyone got a plan?" Ron asked.

"Try not to die," Gene answered.

"Anyone got a _good_ plan?" Terry followed up.

"There's only one thing we can do," Harry finished. "Book it!"

The boys did the smart thing…they ran like Hell, screaming as the troll let out a roar and followed like a moving tank that was going to chase them down and crush them like grapes, until Gene used the Trip Jinx to buy them another three seconds. As they ran towards a split the troll continued to barrel after them as they made a turn, where Harry aimed at the floor and cast, "**_Glacius!_**"

The spell conjured a blast of freezing cold air from the end of the wand, turning the moisture around it into white frost as it froze the floor and the troll slipped and skidded down the path further while they double backed to the direction of the bathroom to get the girls.

Padma waved them over further down the hall, while the troll followed and gained speed. They passed the opening of the bathroom when Hermione used _Wingardium Leviosa _on the club, now free of the Softening Charm and decided to go on the offense. She sent the club out like a low-beam and it crashed into it headfirst with the sound of splintering wood, a loud _crack! _

With it briefly stunned, Harry and pointed his wand at the dazed creature, gathering his magic and pushing the spell to the next level as it the orange light became deeper shade of red. "**_Flipendo Duo!_**"

The red comet hit it square in the chest and sent it back three feet before it hit the ground with a loud thud that trembled across the hall a bit. Groggily it began to raise itself up again when the remnant of the club came down on its head with a final _thump_ and knocked it out. Hermione gave it a huff and ran over to the others.

Terry breathed deeply along with rest, gathering his thoughts and then looked at Harry. He asked, "When did you learn that one?"

"Extra practice…" Harry huffed out the half-truth, not mentioning Quirrell taught him how to power up certain spells with an additional charge time. The adrenaline was still coursing through his veins from the unexpected chase. Good thing he jogged to work on his cardio. "I'll teach you later, but does anyone know how to bind it before it wakes up cranky?"

"Leave that to us," a stern voice came from behind them and they turned to see the face of Professor McGonagall, Headmaster Dumbledore, and Professor Flitwick, who all looked less than pleased, along with a few others. Thirty seconds later the troll was bound in ropes, levitating in the air and about ready to be escorted out of the castle as she begun laying into the group in general and asking what happened.

Hermione and Padma lied through their teeth saying they went looking for the troll to beat it and taking some of the heat off of the boys, but you can imagine that the three were less than forgiving with their actions.

Dumbledore covered it best. "Both houses will receive 20 house points for sticking together and looking out for one another. However, while I am proud to see students standing together, your recklessness could have been the death of you. I am sorry, but we will have to give you all detention for at least a week and notify your parents."

"Mum's going to kill me…" Ron muttered as both parties were led to their respective common rooms.

"She can only kill you if you're alive," his Head of House told him. "You should be glad you will be capable of having such a discussion."

Once back in the Ravenclaw Common Room, Sue Li went up to her friend and engaged in girl talk to make sure Padma was okay, looking her over. Michael Coroner and Anthony Goldstein took Terry aside to get the details for him, leaving Harry by his lonesome as he sat in front of the fire and stared at his hand. It wouldn't stop shaking, even now that the high of moment was gone.

It was his first real life-or-death situation and now that things were calming down he could see the various ways they all could've been killed. They got lucky and he knew it. He couldn't release the wand from his grip until Padma laid her hand on him.

He released his grasp in shock and it fell next to him. "What?"

"Why'd you help us?" she asked. "I didn't help you for your assignment and yet…"

"You didn't deserve to die like that for simply not helping me," Harry told her. "Granted, you should thank Terry and the others when you get a chance, but it wasn't worth letting a student die simply because I was there and chose to do nothing. I had a wand, I saw a chance, and I took it."

"About that time in Transfiguration…" Padma trailed off as she bit her lips. "Morag's family has been attending for generation after generation here and has a long history and much wealth, so she has a lot of clot. When she put out the word that no one was to help you, we had to listen among our year."

"No, you _chose_ to listen," Harry corrected her. "You could ignore her. What's the worse she could do—she's the same grade as you are. At best all she could do would be minor bullying, which I've demonstrated time and time again how to respond to that: An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, and hex for a hex."

"And if I did, then I would be isolated from the rest of the house," she pointed out. "The sheep that stands out is the one that gets picked off by the wolf."

"Professor Flitwick mentioned that House Ravenclaw was also known for individuality a while back, yet how much of that has been seen so far? You have to ask yourself, is it worth being part of the crowd of sheep led by a shepherd and cowing before them in fear?" Harry asked before picking up his wand and heading to get some sleep.

Two days later and the entire school was still abuzz with questions about the Troll and how a couple of students managed to beat it. Most chalked it up to the Boy-Who-Lived while others claimed dumb luck. None of it really mattered when _they _came:

**Howlers**—the tools of the devil itself. Born only to bring humiliation and suffering, Harry watched as they laid into his brother and Ron, one from Lily and Molly respectively. How he hated those things…and then Gene's came flying over to him.

"—AND YOU, HARRY POTTER! HOW DARE YOU JOIN HIM IN MESSING WITH A TROLL RATHER THAN LEAVING IT TO THE PROFESSORS! NOT TO MENTION ALL THE FIGHTS AND DETENTIONS YOU'VE BEEN GETTING! WE'VE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT! WHEN YOU GET BACK WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A LONG DISCUSSION ABOUT—"

As the howler went on, Harry found his eye twitching in annoyance and raised his wand to freeze it when Terry grabbed his wrist and stopped him.

"Howlers are highly resistant to most spells for a reason," he told him. "It's pointless. You'll only make it worse."

"Well, I know what I'm doing with my free time now," Harry said with certainty. "I'm going find a way to get rid of Howlers. If spells won't work, I bet potions will. All the same, I'm not going home for Winter Break."

After the humiliation had ended and Harry shot several members of his house dirty looks for their snarking, breakfast wrapped up with Hermione apologizing for him getting in trouble to help her, but Harry simply said to think nothing of it.

That night, a white fruit bat came in through the window, causing some of the kids to panic as it buzzed around, until it clung to the underside of Terry's bunk. Harry recognized it as Albert and it gave him a minor squeak. Harry took the letter it had attached, before it flew off.

_Sherry must've promised him an entire pineapple for him to come all the way here,_ Harry thought. When he noticed the people in the dorms staring he said, "What? Never seen an albino bat before?"

"No…" Anthony Goldstein said. "Pretty sure we haven't. Who's the late mail from?"

"Just a friend who would rather remain anonymous," Harry said, opening the envelope and finding a letter written on notebook paper. It was Sherry alright and read:

_Dear Harry,_

_Mr. Weasley told me about what happened in your school and I have got to say, you seemed to have jumped up on the scale if you're going from dealing with bullies to trolls. I'm glad you're alright, but you should be more careful. Anyway, now that I think about it our usual Christmas exchange will be coming around in soon._

_Be good and I'll get you a present delivered since I'll be out of the country. Is there anything in particular you want?_

_Sincerely,_

_~S_

Harry proceeded to burn the letter with the Fire-Making Charm so no one else read it, having memorized the contents. He couldn't think of anything physical he would like, but he'd always wanted to learn the Bedazzling Hex. He'd ask her about later.

* * *

**_Some Time Later_**

"Miss Turpin, escort Miss Fawcett to the infirmary. I have no time to deal with students that can't even follow simple instructions on making an Antidote to Common Poisons. Ten points from Ravenclaw and detention for both of you." Snape said with a dulled tone.

"That's unfair!" Lisa said. "Someone tampered with our potion!"

"Unfair is that we wasted perfectly good Unicorn Horn when the number of the beasts inside the forest have dwindled," he responded coolly. "And for that outburst, take another ten off."

Potions was the same as always, Snape being a hardass on everyone. That included Harry, but at least he wasn't singled out for humiliation anymore. Everyone suffered in the man's class, but as long as your potions were decent he rode you less…just a little less.

"Freeze, Younger MacDougal," he said, coming over to Mandy Brocklehurst and Isobel's spot since she had paired up with her today. She had berries in her hand. "You failed to stir clockwise twice. Had you of added those Mistletoe Berries it would be substandard."

"Sorry, Professor Snape," she said.

He raised his nose slightly and said, "It may be more trouble than it's worth, but you and your sister seem to be one of the few above the level of dunderheads the rest of your year are, all houses included. Substandard when dealing with antidotes can be fatal and I expect nothing less than Hospital-grade potions from one of your caliber."

"Wouldn't be easier to shove a bezoar down their throats?" Mandy asked.

"Yes, but unfortunately that isn't on the curriculum…now, get to stirring."

Class continued with Harry and Terry working to make several vials of the antidote. It was barely Hospital-grade while Snape made a comment that perhaps he should split them up to see if they only work at a passable grade with each other. Harry stayed behind to talk to the professor on his pet project.

"You are thinking an Explosive Potion, Ravenclaw Potter and while I am certain it would be useful, it would cause too much collateral damage even at a minor amount and as such the material isn't taught in Hogwarts nor would it be allowed, although…" Snape trailed off, waiting for Harry to get a pen and pocket notebook out. "Should you manage to actually get your hands on the instructions for such a thing, I would recommend substituting the five drops of venom from a Streeler for the crushed spider remains and Bundimun Solution diluted to about a fifth of its potency per vial for the frozen catalyst…"

"Got it," Harry said as he finished jotting it down.

"Now, go bother someone else." Snape said as he kicked him out of the room. He gave him alternatives, but he would still need the potion instruction himself. Not to mention how to harvest the ingredients, as well as store them and brew them.

It was a challenge and Harry accepted.

Bundimun were multi-eyed fungi that fed off the dirt in the lower dungeons in the bottom of the castle, so he could easily get their venom when he had to go to detention later—provided it didn't burn him—and then keep it in a jar or something after having a teacher charm it to be unbreakable. As for the Steeler, those were on the grounds and he knew Magical Menagerie had sold them as pets since they changed colors hourly.

"There's another unused bathroom can probably be used to brew the solu—" He was cut off when he was jerked into a side hall by one Gregory Goyle.

"We need to talk Potter!" Goyle ordered.

"Hello Goyle," Harry said, mildly put off by being jacked up. "How can I help you?"

"I heard Professor Snape calling you the Potter with a brain during our last session with Gryffindor. You're doing my homework for potions, or else…" He let the threat linger.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Okay, first off I don't deal with threats well. I'm in a perfect position to kick you in the nads if you keep it up. Second, I'll _help_ you do it because I don't have a reason not to, providing you scratch my back. I'm not doing it _for_ you because I know Snape can tell if someone cheats. I don't know how, but I know he does."

Goyle scoffed…while repositioning himself to avoid a kick to the groin. "What do you want for your help?"

"Well, putting me down for starters," Harry pointed out and waited until he did. "Second, I know your family is an older one and has access to some books with interesting things. I want to borrow a few to make some notes."

"Easier said than done," Goyle said. "My family isn't a fan of yours and if it gets out, I'll be the one paying for it."

"Relax, I know what I'm doing," Harry told him. "Here's the deal, get a book on potions that has Exploding Potion instructions for me to copy down and I'll help tutor you in potions for the next three classes. If you still need help after that, we'll talk hexes and curses next. Deal?"

"Deal," he grunted. "But I'd better do better than Vincent, otherwise I'm coming for you…"

"Yes, yes," Harry waved the threat off again. _Well, Crabbe is the more intelligent of the pair of lackeys Draco keeps around. Goyle must feel threatened. I'm going to have think of a way to teach him potions that even a dunderhead can get…_

With that said, both went along their way.

* * *

_**Later**_

"Are you alright Professor?" Harry asked, meeting with Quirrell after his lunch since he didn't have classes in the afternoon once again. Quirrell was limping after he had an accident during the troll event.

The Ravenclaw graduate merely brushed it off and said, "I'm fine. Go ahead and show me your progress."

"_Phasmatis Canis!_" Harry casted, pouring his magic into the conjuration as phantasmal fog gathered and condensed to form the Gytrash.

"Well done," Quirrell told him. It looked more like a puppy, but he still got the spell. That was what mattered. "It is a bit underdeveloped, but advanced conjuration is actually a sixth-year and above course."

"I stink at Transformation, yet I get Conjuration, despite both being in the same field of Transfiguration," Harry stated. "How weird is that?"

"That just means you were suited for this after all," Quirrell answered. "Now try to link to it using the Oppugno Jinx to take direct control of it—imagine your wand linking to it like a leash in this case. While the Jinx normally is used to direct an attack, it works as you will it…like a low powered Imperius curse mostly, but no added bonuses."

Harry did the spell and led it around by his will, like it was on a leash. "What about getting it to interact with stuff?"

"The Substantive Charm weaved into it will do that, but it will only work on your own spectral conjuring. Once you get that down you'll be able to have it interact with the living world properly since it will have substance."

That sounded good to Harry. "Can you change the spell to conjure a different animal?"

"Yes, but you'd need to understand the biology to get the details right." Quirrell lectured him. "That's why I included that diagram inside the notes I gave you rather than just the spell itself."

They continued to work on the conjuring spell and then some more practical ones from his text until Harry had to leave out for supper. He couldn't maintain the Substantive Charm for prolonged periods and it failed half the time, and his Shield Charm was so fragile that it broke apart on impact or didn't come out, but baby steps were needed. They were advanced charms after all.

"I have an assignment I want you to accomplish for me," Quirrell stated before Harry left the room. "In exchange I'll teach you a physical shield spell, which is something you could benefit from."

"What about _Protego_?" Harry asked. "We just spent an half-and-a-hour practicing it?"

"The Shield Charm is the standard defensive spell but it has limits," Quirrell said, having received the whisperings of his master of a suitable spell and made a movement while muttering '_Cotego Argenti,_' causing a shield to gleam with silver and appear before him. "Take for instant the Killing Curse. It cannot be blocked by a Shield Charm, but a physical presence could and the Silver Shield could stop nearly anything your opposition could throw, physical or magical."

"Is that so?" Harry asked.

"Indeed," Quirrell said. "The main downside is that it can't deflect spells, only block them, and the range is limited. It's not something I would normally expect a first-year to pull off, but since you've got talent for conjuration I figured why not? All I ask if for you to do this assignment discreetly…"

He went on to give Harry the assignment to go through during the winter break, where it would be the best time to act.

* * *

**_Time Skip to Winter Break – Hagrid's Hut_**

The sound of Fang barking as Hagrid opened the door shook Harry's bones as he greeted the giant. "Hey Hagrid!"

"Harry! What are yeh doing here at this time?" Hagrid asked as he invited him in.

"Is it wrong to want to spend the Holidays with someone interesting?" Harry asked, taking a seat in the hut and trying not to grunt when Fang placed his head in his lap. "Hagrid, have you considered something lighter…like a bob cat?"

"No cats. Allergic to 'em," the Keeper of the Keys said with a sniffle. "I haven't seen ya since the sorting, but you've gotten bigger. I heard yeh were being a handful this year. Must be hard on yeh parents."

"Not really," Harry said. "Hagrid, when was the last time you saw me together with my parents or brother?"

"Erm…I know this," he scratched his head. "It was that day the Percy Weasley had to be escorted to Hogwarts after he missed the train because o' his brothers an' the underwear thing!"

"That was two years ago," Harry told him. "Since then, you would be hard pressed to find me with them. Between their own tasks and my brother, they have no time for me and rarely notice when I'm gone for long periods of time. Otherwise they would have kicked up a fuss about me not coming home for the winter. I'd rather spend it here, where I can make up for lost time and get some practice with my wand."

"Not really in the spirit of the holiday, 'tis it?" Hagrid muttered.

"I know," Harry said, before changing the topic. "Say Hagrid, if you could get a Christmas gift, anything in the world, what would it be?"

"A dragon, I think," Hagrid said. "I raised many a critter, but never one of 'em. What about you?"

Harry mulled the thought over. "I don't know…I really don't. Normally I'm just happy getting a new spell and preparing for the future. I met someone who got me interested in what I wanted to be when I became an adult and I'm trying to look at the big picture ahead of all these years, but it's not the clearest thing around."

"You're stretching yourself thin Harry," Hagrid said. "Trust me, from the perspective o' someone who technically never made of the end of their education. These are the best years of yeh life. Don't waste them getting into trouble like I did."

Harry tilted his head at that. "Trouble?"

"Nevermind," Hagrid said, taking another sip of his drink. "On a bit o' good news, I'm thinking about taking on the role of Care of Magical Creatures soon. The professor there is thinking about retiring soon. I say a year or two…"

"That job is all but a given for you," Harry told him.

They went on to chat about mild things before he departed the hut to report back to Quirrell. He didn't know why Quirrell needed the information about Hagrid's most wanted desire, but it was actually nice spending time with the big guy. He also noted Hagrid getting dodgy after muttering something about giant dogs liking music when he wondered if he should take up a relaxing hobby, but he dropped it.

The days went on after he left and Christmas came about in Hogwarts.

Harry received an pendant ocarina from Hagrid as a thanks for his visit, his parents sent cash since they didn't know what to get him, Sherry sent him a small pouch with a charm on it that would let it hold more on the inside and a copy of the page for the bedazzling hex, the Weasleys sent a sweater, and a violet scarf from Quirrell.

He also received the notes for the Silver Shield spell, handwritten by Quirrell for telling him about a Dragon that was Hagrid's greatest desire, but sadly, the new spells were going to take a while to get down properly. Still, as long as he still had practice with the Ravenclaw graduate he would learn more spells, gain more knowledge, and therefore more power.

And with power came satisfaction and respect.

He looked up to Quirrell in a manner of speaking. A role model. Someone he could trust.

What could go wrong?


	4. Chapter 3

**Death of a Mentor**

Harry worked quickly to copy down the potion instructions for the Exploding Potion from the copy of _Moste Potente Potions_ Goyle had gotten during the winter break. Goyle's grades had improved in Potions—not by much, but beating Crabbe was easy enough—and he honored his commitment so long as Harry returned the book by the end of the week.

So naturally he was copying everything he could that interested him in Myrtle's bathroom.

"Hello, what do we have here…?" Harry said, finding the section on Polyjuice Potion and began taking notes. "I was looking for an Age Potion, but this works—"

"I HATE PEEVES!" Myrtle blurted out as she ran crying into her stall because of Peeves the Poltergeist, effectively ending the silence. Quiet time over now.

"What'd the poltergeist do this time?" Harry asked.

"Oh Harry, it was horrible!" she told him. "Peeves kept pelting me with peanuts!"

"And he pelted me with sticks on the first day, he's a spirit of chaos and a bully all wrapped up in one," Harry said. "Not much anyone but the professors could do…for now."

"I know, but it's not fair," Myrtle said. "Even in death I can't get away from bullies! I could kill myself and no one would miss me!"

"Oh come on, people would miss you if you died…again," Harry said sheepishly. He felt bad for her. He really did.

She glared at him and said, "Like who? You? All you want is to use my bathroom!"

"I would," Harry said. "I know it seems like I'm just crashing here, but I've been where you've been, ignored by most people and even my family to an extent. Heck, I've only got maybe one person I can call a friend among the students. They've tried bullying, but I give as good as I get."

"Yeah, but no one sees you as nothing more than a bother!" she argued. "Try being here for a few decades after dying and forced to stay in a bathroom. At least the other ghosts get free reign of Hogwarts and Peeves can touch more physical stuff, but as soon as I step into my own former common room they tell me to leave and that I'm annoying and—"

"Myrtle…" Harry cut in. "Would you feel better if I told you that I trusted you and don't feel that you're annoying? A bit chatty sometimes, but not annoying."

She wiped her eyes and sniffled. "You're just trying to make me feel better…"

"I'm being honest," he said. He understood how it felt.

"Prove it," she said, moving close to him.

"Alright," Harry said. "Help me test a spell and if I get it down soon, I'll help drive Peeves off if he bothers you again. But it needs to stay a secret until I say so."

"Ooooh, promises, promises, Harry," she wagged her finger. "Alright, show me. I won't tell anyone!"

"I need to see if this will interact with another spiritual being," Harry said and cast, "_Phasmatis Canis._"

Phantasmal fog gathered and molded, swirling into the shape of the ghostly dog that had tongues of mist rolling off it. The Gytrash had gotten a good deal bigger between November and now, thanks to all the practice. The spectral dog looked around before settling it's gaze on the deceased girl and sauntered over to her, rubbing against her leg.

"Aren't you a good doggie!" she exclaimed, running her hand over it. Its tail wagged a few times before it pushed open a stall and started drinking from the toilet, leaving her confused. "It opened the door instead of going through it?"

"It has a substantive charm weaved into it, but it's only a minor one and the Gytrash decides when it wants to go through something on its own unless I use the Oppugno Jinx," Harry told her. "I haven't gotten how to do a substantive charm for ghosts yet, only things made from my magic, but hopefully I'll learn and you'll be able to interact with the living world more."

"You would do that for me?" Myrtle asked.

"Well, you've been nicer than most of my housemates,_"_ Harry said. "It seems only fair."

* * *

_Time Skip to February_

"**_Fumos!_**" Terry bellowed as smoke vacated the yellow-lit tip of his wand after he moved it in a spiral. The pair had gotten back into their practice now that the weather had warmed up a bit and they both wanted to get ahead of the curb in DADA, so he went through _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ and taught himself the Smokescreen Charm.

"**_Ventus!_**" Harry cast the boy's favorite jinx against him, washing away the smoke. He would also admit the way his scarf moved looked badass while the spell billowed it.

Terry put more magic behind his spell and smirked. "Blow this away then! **_Fumos Duo!_**"

Smoke didn't so much as vacate his wand as it had before, but instead erupted in a geyser. Harry's wind only managed to blow a portion away before it swallowed him and he pulled his scarf and around his mouth and nose like a mask and cast "_Celario!_" as silently as he could.

The air around him shimmered and shifted under the Bedazzling Hex and he broke through the smoke while invisible to the naked eye and—

"**_Titillando!_**" Terry cried as a purple light spewed the violet haze that shaped itself into hand-ribbons and started tickling him.

"HAHAHA! I yield! I yield!" Harry surrendered to get him to drop the Tickling Hex before canceling the drain of a failed Bedazzling Hex. "What gave me away?"

"Well, there were smoke streamers coming off you and you weren't completely invisible. It was more like camouflage where the light was bending around you slightly so I could make out the slightly transparency details."

"I didn't cast it right," Harry said, looping and tying the violet scarf around his robe sleeve. "I've seen an actual Bedazzling Hex done, if it was proper then you wouldn't have seen any details and even the outline would be hard to notice."

Terry nodded and asked, "How's the whole getting rid of Howlers thing going?"

"I finished the first batch today," Harry answered. "I'll have a professor help me test them and hopefully it'll work."

"That sounds like something that people would get behind if it did," a voice came from behind an outcropping. "With finals a few months away, some of the parents have been sending Howlers for their kids to shape up and I have a feeling that they would be wanted."

"Isobel MacDougal," Harry said while scratching his head. "Why are you out here?"

"My sister sent me to spy on you and see what the 'Black Sheep' of Ravenclaw is doing every morning," she said with ice in her voice. "She's apparently too lazy to wake up early enough to do it herself. I was down at the lake before now and heading back when I saw you bungle that hex. "

"What are you going to tell her?" he asked.

"That the both of you were playing around like a bunch of school children," she stated. "As far as I'm concerned, what she doesn't know, you can use to humiliate her later."

Terry dusted himself off and asked, "Why is there so much bad blood between you and her?"

"Many things, even before Charm School when I was younger," she answered. "Now I'd suggest we all get back since classes will be starting soon."

As they walked back, Harry attempted to play his ocarina pendant and didn't completely suck at it. Granted, he spent most of the winter break when he wasn't studying or working on his spells getting the tune down and playing a song. But it wasn't good enough for Isobel to stand listening to.

"Let me show you how it's done," she said before taking the instrument and playing a calming tune. The song was elegant, yet invigorating. When she finished and handed it back she said, "You need to alter your breath as you blow and position you fingers right next time. The way you play, the Merpeople in the Black Lake would sic the Grindylows on you."

"Why?" Harry asked. He was warned about the Dark Creatures known as the Grindylows and why swimming in the lake unsupervised wasn't recommended—not that it was against the rules—but he couldn't fathom why the Merpeople would attack him unprovoked.

"Merpeople love music," Isobel told him. "There's a colony near where I live. The Merpeople in the warmer waters are more attractive than the ones here, but they all share a love of music. Your playing was an insult to music and the instrument itself."

"Ouch," Terry said. "That was cold…but, you said where 'you' live. Don't you and your sister live in the same estate?"

"Our parents are separated," she said in a manner that told them to drop it right there. "Anyway, practice more—in private—before you even think of maiming someone else's ears."

"Sorry," Harry said with sarcasm, putting the instrument away in his pouch with an extension charm on it. They went back to their rooms, went to breakfast, and then the classes, where in Transfiguration class they went over the Chair-to-Cat spell.

It was a transformation spell, his worst field. Even using the advice Isobel gave him months before it didn't work properly. Harry noticed that Isobel was having trouble too, meaning it wasn't just him. He was about to try again when Padma tapped him on the shoulder.

"Tell me how you've been doing it so far?" she requested. "I want to help."

"What about your shepherd?" Harry asked, referencing to Morag.

"The sheep that sticks out is the one who gets caught by the wolves…" she trailed off as a smile appeared on her face. "But I'm not a sheep, now am I?"

Harry nodded. "I black out all thoughts and force it to go step-by-step. But when I try it here it doesn't work at all."

"Isolating it and going step-by-step may work on non-living things, but doing so for an actual animal is bound to fail," Padma said. "Transfiguring to an inanimate object is far different from something that lives on its own. If I may…"

Padma proceeded to try and help him further on the subject. The keyword being 'try' in this case. Harry would need more practice, but he was fairly certain that he would never get to an impressive level with it.

On a more impressive note, Professor Snape tested his 'Howler Buster' as Harry called it and gave him a backhanded compliment on the success of it. Harry bottled it in small vials, paid an older student, a Prefect named Penelope Clearwater, to place a Vanishing Charm on the glass that activated when it broke. A quick demonstration later earned Harry some much needed coin for himself.

The Weasley Twins soon met up with him to discuss business, willing to work out the details during the summer out of the school. With things looking up, Harry spent more time working on his spells and keeping things under control while training with Quirrell.

"This spell is known as the 'Stream of Darkness,'" Quirrell said as nebulous darkness bellowed from his wand, washing against the Silver Shield as Harry was being pressed back against the flow while bracing it. It didn't help that the faulty shield was being eaten away. "As you can feel it corrodes and dissolves physical matter, even the Silver Shield spell wasn't meant to weather this, but give a brief reprieve. Now, I'll show you how it can be used for a more decisive action."

All the darkness swirled into a black-rimmed sphere of light at the tip of his wand. With a silent Banishing Charm (_Depulso_), he knocked Harry back from his defense to get him out of range as the dark orb was released, barreling down slower than the average spell, but carrying an heavy presence. On impact with the shield in the air, it expanded into a orb of pure, cold, blackness and then spun into itself, imploding as it…_ate_ his spell, as far as Harry could tell. "Whoa!"

"That was the Abyss Sphere Curse, a spell designed to swallow space and pull itself into oblivion by compressing with an intense, concentrated gravity. Against a living target it is fatal, to say the least. I could have also released it as a less lethal shockwave instead," Quirrell told him. "I'd compressed the spell and then let it out with my wand in the air. I'd recommend that should you attempt the spell, rather than the Abyss."

"Okay…" Harry dusted off his robes and asked, "What next?"

"Next we're working on your transformations," he told him.

"What's the point of that if I can conjure?" Harry asked.

"You said you were bad at it," he answered. "Are you content to remain as you are? Or will you advance no matter what, grasping power with your own hands? If that's the case, you will work on it from tonight on, five nights a week, to ensure you are at least competent in that field. But perhaps a more hands-on approach, hm?"

The professor entered a duelist stance. "Attack me with say…a conjured element, for now."

Harry opted to go with summoned flames, "**_Incendio!_**"

A line of fire bellowed from his wand and surged towards Quirrell, who captured it with a parry of his wand and twisted them into the shape of a quadruped that barreled towards the boy. Caught off guard, it pounced and was about to smother him with its flaming body when it scattered into countless embers around Harry.

"In a duel it is sometimes for effective to take your opponent's spell and turn it against them," the professor lectured. "Catch them off guard by being defensive and then using their own offense against them."

Harry took his glasses off and cleaned them with his robes before saying, "Lesson learned. I'll study transformations."

"Good," he said, using his wand to get things back in order as they readied to break for the night. "By the way, I heard you were still having trouble with your housemates for not kowtowing to their standards and costing them house points again."

"It's just a stupid cup," Harry said. "The rest of the first years are either sheep or cowards and the older students don't have much to say to me—granted they don't like me for it…"

"Don't let it get you down," Quirrell told him. "It was always like that, even in my time. I was looked down upon because I lacked the abilities I have now and didn't toe the line. It often end in violence, and I could only rely on myself."

"So you were bullied for the same reason I was?" Harry asked. "You refused to be a sheep?"

"Yes," he admitted. "But unlike you, I didn't have an excellent teacher to help me grasp power with my own hands. At least, not while here."

Harry nodded, grateful for the Ravenclaw graduate's assistance in pushing him this far in such a short time. "Thanks…I mean it."

* * *

_Time Skip to May_

It started simple enough.

Madam Hooch had left to take Morag and Fawcett up to the infirmary after a nasty spill and ordered them to circle the grounds within range, at a low altitude. Since Harry's mind was on how Professor Quirrell seemed more…antsy lately—the man had started stuttering again and Snape seemed to be glancing at him with eyes of suspicion—he was caught off guard when he was clipped from behind by Stephen as he passed.

The duelist's son turned and spoke in a mocking tone. "Careful, before you have an accident. Wouldn't want to get hurt, would you?"

"Hold on to that thought," Harry said as he dusted himself off, put his scarf and glasses back on, and, with a whip-like motion, pointed his wand at him. "**_Ventus!_**"

The blast of wind hit him square in the chest and sent him spiraling to the ground. Stephen stood and drew his wand, moving his locks out of his face as he exclaimed, "That was a challenge. Face me in a duel!"

"Bring it on, Morag's Herding Dog!" Harry exclaimed, attempting to nail him with the Curse of the Bogies off the bat. "**_Mucus ad Nauseam!_**"

"**_Protego!_**" Stephen announced as a blue-rimmed, shimmering shield of magic protected him from the curse, scattering the curse's light on impact. It lacked deflection due to the lack of power, but still blocked it. He retaliated with the Jelly-Fingers Curse. "**_Finxi Wibbly!_**"

Harry dodged, the spell whizzing past his turned torso. Digging into the knowledge of the second-year spells from the _Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_, he briefly considered the Severing Charm or Quirrell's Stream of Darkness but found both to be too risky in a school-duel and he wasn't advertising he was that far ahead of the curve. So he stuck with charging his standard offensive spell. "**_Flipendo Duo!_**"

"You're not the only one who bought the text ahead of their year and practiced, Potter!" Stephen yelled as he dodged, recognizing the charging as a second year technique. He moved his wand in the shape of twin-tipped mountains and put a good deal of power behind his spell as he cast, "**_Immobulus!_**"

A blue bolt shot from Stephen's wand with intent to freeze Harry in place. However, Harry had cast his own Shield Charm, which took the attack but the shattered like glass upon impact, staggering him. There was a reason that most first-years didn't use this spell, it was because they couldn't put enough power behind it having just adjusted to getting a wand in that year and it was a moderately difficult charm that most adults had trouble with. There was a reason the Twins planned to market shielded clothing.

"**_Locomotor Wibbly!_**" Stephen verbalized as he cast the Jelly-Legs Jinx and winged Harry, dropping him to his knees.

"**_Finite Incantatem!_**" A white flash vacated Harry's wand as he used the General Counter Spell. His legs regained strength and he rolled to avoid the incoming Disarming Charm and then the Body Freezing Spell. He came up and announced, "**_Glacius!_**"

Chilled vapor vacated his wand, barreling down as more magic was poured into the spell and turning the grass into crystalline blades as the Shield Charm came up. The spell spread at the barrier, chilling the ground. Harry followed up with an Oppugno Jinx, taking control of the frozen grass and sending them flying and battering it against the shield.

A smile crossed Stephen's lips. He lived for the thrill of the duel, courtesy of the blood running through his veins, and hadn't expected a challenge from a First Year like himself. He may have been ordered by Morag to kowtow him into line before he lost them anymore points, due to a debt he felt he owed her, but now…now he could relish the duel—a situation where wands were used to their fullest—with the added bonus of having a crowd.

At this point several students left behind them were taking bets with 3-to-1 odds.

"**_Inflatus!_**" said the duelist son as he attempted an Inflation Jinx, a pale-pinkish light that streaked forth and passed by Harry's head as he dodged.

Harry countered which a Revulsion Jinx missed and followed with a Stinging Jinx, "**_Fodio!_**" The jinx hit Stephen's leg and it felt like he had been hit with a dozen times over at the location, the pain stopping him from moving as it swelled, right as another spell left his wand.

"**_Tarantallegra!_**" Stephen cursed Harry with the Dancing Feet Spell, making him do a jig. And when Harry thought it couldn't get any worse, it made him do a split, getting a collective "Oof!" from the men in the audience. Stephen gloated as his ego demanded, considering his victory at hand…it left him open.

_Alright, time to pull a Quirrell special out then,_ Harry thought with vengeance in mind. His wand's tip glowed an ethereal, sickly green color before he cast the Ghostly-Head Curse. "**_Phasmatis Capitillus!_**"

Lime-colored smoke gave birth to a ghastly, green-tinted head twice the boy's size, which opened its mouth wide and screamed as it lunged for the Ravenclaw, terrifying the hell out of everyone who had gathered. Stephen tried to use some jinxes to stop it, which was a mistake. He should've used an element to affect it, like the Ventus Jinx or targeted Harry, who guided it. Taking him into its mouth, the head bit down and ruptured with enough force to throw him Stephen off his feet and sent flying as a wave of the ethereal smoke washed over him.

"Gloating is for after the wands are down," Harry huffed after terminating the Dancing Feet Spell. He was about a split-second away from using the next curse when Stephen aimed towards the tree Harry was by and went into using the Caught transformation spell.

"**_Incacerata!_**" The tree limbs bent and turned into chains, descending to capture the Potter. Coiling around his torso and free arms, Harry dropped his wand before he could try the Severing Charm or even the Pressure Blasting Charm (_Expluso_) on it.

_I should've cursed him instead of telling him not to gloat—it was my own fault,_ Harry thought.

"**POTTER! CORNFOOT!**" The roar of an angry Madam Hooch, short gray hair billowing and hawk-eyes furrowed, coming in on a broom took away the brief joy Stephen had at that moment. "There is no dueling on the school grounds!"

"He started it," Harry said. "He knocked me off my broom first!"

"That does not excuse a duel—especially one of this magnitude!" Madam Hooch huffed as she used the General Untransfiguration spell to turn the tree back to normal. "_Reparifarge!_"

The tree chains melted and flowed back into becoming limbs. Done with that, the pissed off instructor looked at the gathered crowd, who all made like eggs and scrambled while she dragged them both away to Flitwick, who took twenty house points from his own house for both of them and detention for an undetermined amount of time.

The winner of the bet was not announced, but galleons did pass hands.

* * *

_Later that Night_

Harry, Draco, Hermione, Stephen, Neville, Gene, and Hagrid stood at the entrance of the Forbidden Forest.

"How'd you get detention?" Gene asked.

"Duel," Harry responded and pointed his opponent. "Which he started, I might add."

"And won," Stephen added.

"Says you," Harry countered, before looking at the rest. "What about you guys?"

"We all got caught outside during curfew," Hermione said.

"They were smuggling a dragon," Draco added.

Gene snorted. "Like you can prove it?"

Hagrid cleared his throat to get their attention and tell them how they were to search for injured unicorns in the forest and send up Red Sparks (_Vermillious_) if they found them or something happened. It went about as well as expected when Draco spooked Neville into releasing sparks, leaving Harry, Gene, and Draco together as they searched with Fang.

"Look," Harry said, leaning down and picking up clumped strands of Unicorn Hair next to a drop of silver blood. He pocketed the hair strands in his expansion charmed pouch. "We're going in the right direction."

His brother noticed the pouch and asked, "Where'd you get the pouch?"

"Classified," Harry responded, freezing as they came across the scene.

Draping over the downed Unicorn, a cloaked figure drank deep the luminous silver blood before noticing the interlopers to its meal. It looked up, and Draco fled in terror with Fang. Harry's wand was already up and out of panic at the grisly scene he fired off a spell. "**_Flipendo!_**"

The creature raised a hand and the spell rebounded like it hit an invisible wall, sending the streaking comet of orange back to its caster, whose eyes went wide. Like he was kicked by a mule the young boy was sent flying into a tree. Then the world flashed for him as he screamed in pain, the misfortune of having his wand arm impaled upon by a jagged, broken branch the size of a pencil penetrating through it and breaking from the impact.

The creature froze upon hearing the scream and briefly contorted with pain, waging a war between emotions. Once a centaur arrived, it decided to retreat as the boys were carried off to Hagrid by Firenze, where Gene realized after a conversation just who it was they had faced: Voldemort.

He opted to keep silent at the moment.

After arriving in the Madam Pompfrey's care and getting the wound treated and bones mended, Harry was groggy from the potions when he received a visitor the next morning.

"Professor…Quirrell?" Harry asked, vision blurred as he reached for his glasses. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how one of my students was doing after a trip to the Forbidden Forest," he said. "I heard you were attacked. Did…did you see what did it?"

"I didn't recognize whatever it was drinking the Unicorn's blood…" Harry said, not noticing the tiny breath of relief Quirrell had or the fact that he loosened his grasp on his wand. He had been planning on hiding the memory with the Forgetfulness Charm (_Obliviate_). "It could've been a vampire."

"Possibly," he nodded. "I believe we hadn't covered that Dark Creature in class or private yet. I'll see what I can find."

* * *

_Time Skip to June 4__th_

Harry was out the third floor, under his improved Bedazzling Hex, when he saw Ron and Hermione, two of Gene's friends, leaving the room that they were forbidden to enter in the first place under the pain of death. He supposed it was none of his business, but the playing of a harp drew him in and he entered the room…coming face-to-face with the slumbering three-headed dog behind an opened trap door.

Venturing through the rooms of cleared traps and obstacles, taking a minute to deal with the potion's riddle, he eventually made his way to a scene he hadn't been expecting: Gene and Quirrell, one's hand burnt to the bone while the other was bound by ropes. His frantic thoughts left ceased when Quirrell looked his way and another voice came from behind him. "_Harry…Potter…I know you are there_."

With a wave of Quirrell's wand the hex was canceled and Harry stood there with his wand out, confused as hell. "What's going on?"

"Come apprentice," it said, beckon Harry forward. "You will be useful here. Come and assist me in retrieving the stone, and I shall give you more power. More knowledge. Enough respect that you shall be greater that the Boy-Who-Lived…"

"Don't listen, Harry!" Gene said. "He's Voldemort! He's the one who killed Uncle Pettigrew!"

"You can trust me, Harry," Quirrellmort said, Voldemort had already begun possessing the man and controlling him. "If you want to get out of your brother's shadow, this is the way. He is an obstacle to your quest for power by merely existing. Hasn't he caused all problems you faced by simply living that night, long ago?"

"What stone?" Harry asked, eyes shifting between the two. "What does he mean, Voldemort?"

"He's trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone!" Gene yelled from his bindings. "Voldemort's been possessing Quirrell all year!"

"No…" Harry said, shaking his head. He'd been studying under the very person who tried to murder him as a toddler along with his brother. "He's lying, right?"

"I've taught you much, apprentice," he said, not denying the claim. "I can teach you more. Just prove your loyalty and get the stone from your brother. Serve me and gain power as Quirrell has. I could use someone of your talent among my followers, and you have much room to grow…"

"...Where's this stone, Gene?" Harry said after a moment.

Gene looked at him in shock. "Are you serious?"

"Tell me or I'll force it out of you," Harry warned, his grasp on the wand tightening as magic flowed into it, light gathering like a forming star as he aimed at Gene. The glow became an ominous scarlet as his wand hand trembled from the power being placed behind it. "Last chance."

Defiance rose in the Boy-Who-Lived's eyes. "Never."

"So be it." The light turned white, shining like a morning star as the stain became unbearable...and he pointed it towards Quirrellmort. "**_Flipendo Tria!_**"

The spell knocked the man against the mirror and shattered it into a rain of enchanted glass as he flew through it and into the wall with a sickening crunch and crumbled onto the floor.

"I serve no one," Harry said as he cut the bindings—and some of Gene's clothing—with the Severing Charm (_Diffindo_) so Gene could break free grab his wand off the floor next to him. "Come on!"

The two sped through the rooms when Gene asked, "You were Voldemort's apprentice?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed, shaking his head. "I was Quirrell's! That man was not him! I refuse to acknowledge it!"

"So that was all an act to get his guard down?" Gene asked. Harry didn't answer. "Was it an act or were you seriously—"

"Shut up and focus, Gene!" Harry told him as they ran, gritting his teeth upon hearing the scream of an angry Dark Lord chasing them. As they entered the Devil Snare room, Harry decided to do what he could to even the odds. "**_Fumos Duo_!**"

Gene conjured Bluebell flames, taught to him by Hermione, to keep the Devil Snare at bay while Harry's wand spat smoke out like a fountain, filling the room and path up to hinder the sight of the incoming threat. Afterward he threw down the Stickfast Hex to trap anyone who walked through it as the flames died.

Once they were clear Harry climbed first to get through the trap door while Gene came up and slammed it shut. He hit it with a Sticking Charm (_Gluternus_) to keep it down and then made way to the exit. All the measures they took should have bought them—

"**NNNNYYYEEEAAAHHH!**!"

—about three seconds as the proxy of the Dark Lord howled and the trap door exploded open. The exit to the room slammed shut and locked, immune to the unlocking charm no matter how many times Gene cast, and Quirrellmort appeared, eyes illuminated with power as the possession had been completed.

With a wave of his wand the twins were knocked back and the harp began playing an ominous, haunting tune as he looked at Harry first. Quirrellmort raised his wand and a green light gathered, one that flashed in Harry's memory to a long night ago, spurring him to summon his ultimate defense. "Foolish boy. Much like Pettigrew, you have betrayed me. If you will not serve me, then die…_Avada_—"

With a practiced grace done a hundred times over and over since he learned it, Harry recited the only spell he knew that would protect him. "_Cotego_—"

"—_**Kedavra**_**/**_**Argenti!**_" They finished together, the silver shield taking root in front of him, gleaming in the candle light as the emerald green light of the Killing Curse jetted forth, moving like serpentine lightning speeding towards prey. There was a loud gong as the curse hit the shield, which shattered in an explosion due to the difference in power and the inexperience that left some of the conjured steel ending up as shrapnel that decorated the boy's body.

Harry was thrown back against the wall and slid down, leaving bloody trails as he bled and his breath went near still. **Pain**—all over, he only knew pain and agony.

"_**Expelliarmus!**_" Gene cast, taking the possessed man's wand and snapping it without a second thought, before he could reclaim it. Quirrellmort and extended his hand, wandlessly and silently casting a Strangulation Curse (_Suffocio_) upon the elder twin. Unable to breath, he slowly slipped into the void of unconsciousness.

The world blurred for Harry as he witnessed his brother being Force-Choked like he had seen when Sherry took him to her place to watch Star Wars during one of the holidays. He spied the enchanted harp playing, lulling the dog into a sleep, and Quirrellmort right in front of it. His choice was one that would scar him for life as he cast a final spell with a limp wrist, about to kill the very man who taught him with it. "_Ex…pulso_…"

The pressure around the harp increased to rupture it in an explosion, the cessation of the music awaking the sleeping dog…that mauled the possessed man.

The first set of fangs came around and dug into his abdomen, crushing and piercing the rubbery flesh that seeped visceral fluid as the organs gave way. The second managed to get a leg off, the blood flowing out with bits of sinew and meat that rained down as it hungrily ate the morsel. The third…well, it got the rest beginning with the stringy arms that were slightly chewy.

Naturally, all the screams drew the attention of Peeves, who stumbled in. "What's all the—" he froze for a moment, noticing Harry's wand trained in the direction of the dog and the mauled professor and left out screaming all around the castle, "**POTTER'S KILLED PROFESSOR QUIRRELL! MURDERER! MURDERER!**"

As Gene laid passed out, Harry looked into Quirrell's remains and noted, the life was gone as his own would soon be. He had killed his mentor to save his brother, possessed or not, it wouldn't change that fact. As his vision died he heard the door unlocking and rushing footstep, along with someone calling his name right before the world went black.


	5. Chapter 4

**End of Year 1 at Hogwarts**

* * *

Gene Potter was the Boy-Who-Lived, a somewhat famous wizard who survived what was thought to be the only spell that never failed to kill a struck target. He knew that since he was old enough to walk on two legs. He admitted it gave him a bit of confidence, a swagger in his step. His mother made sure to keep it down to _just a_ swagger, so he didn't turn into an earlier copy of his father.

Still, he came to Hogwarts with some fairly high intentions. The first was to ace as many courses as he could, getting nothing less than above average scores in Transfiguration, Charms, and everything but Potions.

He didn't kid himself, Snivelius wouldn't let a Potter pass his class with exemplary scores.

Draco Malfoy was hostile on the train ride, but their parents were like that overall to each other so it was expected. That wasn't going to change any time soon. As long as he didn't cross the line, neither would Gene.

**Then, there was Harry.**

Harry was a nerd for all intensive purposes, Gene originally thought. He always stayed in his room or went somewhere with a book in hand, never really talking to anyone. He wasn't surprised when he got into Ravenclaw at all since it would suit him.

To have Malfoy tell him—no, gloat—that his own brother had sided with him was unforgivable. Gene had originally thought that maybe Draco had bullied Harry into telling him or manipulated him somehow. That had to be it.

Slytherin were the bad guys after all! Every other house agreed. It had always been that way, even before his parent's time.

Either way, he decided to confront Harry with the intention of getting him to renounce his allegiance with that ferret…and learned that he didn't know his brother nearly as well as he thought he did.

For starters, he didn't even know Harry was that decent with a wand he had only gotten. He never recalled Harry practicing with one before school started. His source in Ravenclaw—well, a fan—told him that he received a letter from a bat of all things. Gene didn't even know he had a friend outside that Terry boy.

Harry was hostile to nearly everyone in his own house and seemed to relish learning about the dark arts in DADA. Then he learned that Harry was something of an apprentice to Voldemort—well, Quirrell, before he knew he was possessed—and it explained his growth. Harry was going dark…

In all honesty, watching Harry charge that spell up left him wondering if he was truly going to do it. It was a relief when Harry turned the spell on Quirrell. Yet, Harry didn't say whether or not he would have done it if it weren't Voldemort asking, but Quirrell instead.

So, waking up to see Madam Pomfroy hovering over his brother and trying to prevent him from going on a premature journey to the 'Next Great Adventure' as the older Headmaster often said, and then telling the Headmaster everything he knew so far, he decided that Harry wasn't Light or Dark.

**Gene simply didn't know Harry at all.**

* * *

_A Few Hours Later_

Harry woke up, still in shock and giving short answers to question presented by the nurse as Gene had entered looking for him, after being cleared an hour ago and speaking to the Headmaster.

"So…" Gene rubbed his head, not really sure how to follow up given the circumstances. "How are you doing?"

"This was all your fault!" Harry snapped, spinning around and training his wand on his brother. It was shaking and not from the potions he took. "Voldemort was supposed to be dead! You were supposed to have killed him! If you had finished the job, QUIRRELL COULD HAVE LIVED!"

"Now, now…" the aged voice of the Headmaster reached the pair's ears and they turned to face the source. "Harry, settle down. What happened was the fault of neither one of you…"

Harry took a deep breath and lowered his wand before Dumbledore ushered out the other Potter and then returned.

"Harry, Gene told me you were Quirrell's apprentice," he said in a calm tone, as to not agitate the boy still in shock. "I'm going to need you to tell me everything you discussed with him and he taught you. Understand?"

Harry looked at him in the eyes blankly and nodded, starting with the first conversation. He kept the conversation compartmentalized, never noticing the feather drop touch on his mind before the man left—leaving him alone with thoughts of vengeance towards the Dark One.

"He's going to come back," Harry said to himself, steel in his voice. "And when he does, I'm going to be ready. I'll do what Gene should have."

"You're being foolish Potter," Snape said, appearing from the door like a phantom and maintaining his professional detachment like an art form. "Even if the Dark Lord were to return, he would most likely amass a large force, starting with those he had in his service beforehand. What you claim would have you—a single person—going against an army."

"I'll find a way." Harry tightened his face and met his eyes, falling prey to the second Legimens' mental invasion. "He has to be taken out, somehow."

"Let the matter drop," Snape rebutted coolly. "You can't fight what you don't understand—and you don't understand the mind of one such as him, or those who would follow him. You must learn thy enemy and act with logic, not emotion when dealing with such people. And most of all, you must be decisive, not grieving in pity like a defeated dog."

Snape went over the same series of questions that Dumbledore did in order to buy time to finish weeding through his memories and mind. Then he spun on the sole of his shoe and left the room, having gotten the information he needed from the boy's mind.

* * *

Dumbledore, for all his calm, was quite livid.

Voldemort had been subtle in his act and laid the seeds for a thirst for power, much like he had as a young boy, into Harry. He could not afford to simply react to the subject. The first thing Dumbledore did was gather the twins' parents. Sirius Black accompanied them, having been catching up on old times when they were Floo'ed.

"First off, before this matter somehow gets out," Dumbledore looked to the Potter couple, "James and Lily, there's been a problem with the boys. Gene managed to get off relatively unharmed, but Harry will need a few days to recover from the emotional trauma more than anything."

"What happened?" James asked.

"It would seem Tom Riddle—also known as Voldemort—has begun attempting to return," Dumbledore stated gravely. "To that extent, he attempted to use the Philosopher's Stone as well as both Harry and Gene to get it."

"Harry?" James rubbed his chin in thought. "Why was Harry harmed?"

"Tom had been possessing one of my staff members, sadly, and developed a close bond with him. Tragically, Harry ended up killing Professor Quirrell to protect Gene," Dumbledore told them, before going into the events from both boys' perspective. "I'd recommend that they are consoled on their actions before—"

Just then the door opened to his office and Professor Snape appeared. "I beg to differ on that assessment. Having James try to play an adequate father now will only serve to further drive away the smart one. He'll be stronger for it if he gets over it himself."

"Oh?" Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure Severus?"

"I took a look at his memories—"

Lily looked aghast. "You read his mind!"

"Yes. Yes I did," Snape admitted. "To see if Quirrell had used any mental compulsions or spells on his mind during their time together and further more to be thorough."

Dumbledore pouted. "That was unnecessary."

"For all we know he could have been subtly compulsed to kill himself, so it was a necessary evil," Snape shrugged. "I believe it was worth it given what I learned."

"You had no right—" James started.

The Headmaster raised his hand and cut him off. "If I may ask, what did you learn, Severus?"

"I saw how he was treated with things his father seemed to lack—attention and respect. Voldemort played him like a fiddle, taking advantage of the gap in his defenses James created with his negligence for favoring his other spawn. There _was_ a minor compulsion to avoid spending excess time with either me or the Headmaster, seeing as the two of us were likely to see the influence Quirrell had on the boy. Had the ruse continued and Voldemort would have slowly twisted him into an effective and dangerous servant."

Snape smoothed his robe and finished, "Anything else I learned had nothing to do with this matter, so I will be silent out of respect for the boy."

Sirius snorted. "Since when are you that nice? You read his mind without consent!"

"I'm not a nice person, Black," Snape told him. "We established that long ago. I have no intention of changing, much like you still don't have any regrets to sending me off to die via murder-by-werewolf—which would have had him taken to Azkaban or euthanized. The reason I am here is because I am good at what I do and because I know how Voldemort thinks. The reason I respect the boy is because he is much like I was as a student, which was why I went as far as I did to ensure his mental health."

"He's nothing like you were." James claimed.

"Like you would know?" Snape shot back calmly. "Even before entering his mind, I knew him better than you did."

James scowl deepened. "You were—"

"Smart, creative, an expert on potions, and capable of curses that would leave you lying in a bloody ditch had you not had your lackeys like Black around…just as he is." Snape continued. "Much like me he is not fond overall of the Marauders, hates that useless sport of Quidditch, doesn't waste his effort on earning that useless cup, and cares not for others opinions of him, all of which earned him a place in my books—unlike the other _spawn_."

"Those are grounds for a duel!" James stated, reaching for his wand.

"BOYS!" Lily said and cleared her throat, having been silent long enough. "Snape, please continue reasonably. You claimed to know how Voldemort would think best. Is there a chance one of _my_ sons could be going dark or to Voldemort's side should he return?"

Snape pursed his lips. She never did speak casually to him after his slip of the tongue…to both her and Voldemort. "The fact that he seems to have more interest in the muggle side of things and possesses more knowledge than the incompetent professor Dumbledore has working there now, served as one bonding point for him and Quirrell, but suggests otherwise. At the same time, Quirrell had made up for deficiencies in his upbringing and granted him what he wanted. Looking into the boy's mind with his master's aid no doubt gave him a leg on trying to train him."

James raised an eyebrow. "What deficiencies?"

"Negligence, if it wasn't clear before." Snape answered. "The boy is more of a credit than your other spawn and I distinctly believe that has to do with the lack of influence from James and his minions. Somehow he's turned bad parenting into a boon."

"Severus…" Dumbledore warned.

Snape let the jab drop. "He excels in potions to the extent he found a way to destroy Howlers, safely and economically with a few suggestions from yours truly, in his First Year. He is capable of some higher conjuration—a normally Six Year subject—having gained an insight into his talent into it since James' other spawn has taken to his capabilities in transformations, but is working harder than ever to make up for the skill he lacks. Lily, your talent in charms seemed to have taken root in dark charms instead for him, and he knows materials at least a year in advanced of his classes."

Dumbledore nodded. It was always interesting to see a student apply himself…even given the circumstances. "What is your final verdict, Severus?"

Snape took a small breath and said, "He's not one who would follow another as a servant or a sheep like much of his house, cares too much about muggle affairs, and is too smart to be a Death Eater. However, he's too intrigued to back away from his interest in the Dark Arts. Quirrell's death had the benefit of driving a wedge of hatred between Voldemort while also has him lashing out at his brother. It would be prudent to let things take their course at the moment and see one which side of the line he leans more to."

"Yes, I see," Dumbledore muttered. "Very well. I'll agree with you, but he should be monitored in case Tom makes another play and so he doesn't do anything rash while still grieving."

"Can we see both of them?" Sirius asked.

"It would be inadvisable for Ravenclaw Potter," Snape pointed out.

"He's our son!" James argued. "We're his parents!"

"He doesn't see either of you as more than acquaintances," Snape countered, looking to Lily softy and pursing his lips. "He has never once, consciously, called either of you by anything other than your names in the last year, has he?"

Lily blinked and shuffled through her thoughts. Looking back, Harry rarely confided in anything and stayed with his head in books or out…

"Hm…" Dumbledore stroked his beard in thought, looking over to his phoenix as it slept. "Perhaps this summer all of you should sit down and have a nice chat. In the meantime, I'll see if I can't have his Head of House keep a look out for him. I believe Gene will be willing to come in, so I'll send for him."

"Snape," Lily called as her husband and Sirius waited for Gene to arrive. "Can we talk? In private?"

"_Muffliato._" Professor Snape cast, encasing them in a field that sounded like white noise to anyone else, and then stood in front of her in a slightly guarded pose, wand behind his back and stiff. "Yes."

Lily took a deep breath. "Since you seem to have a more insightful look into my child's behavior and he'll probably listen to you, could I ask that you keep him away from going down a road he can't come back from. Encourage him to communicate more within his house, make friends, not bottle things up—"

"You don't want him to wind up like I did," Snape stated. She nodded, as expected. "That's a lot to ask Lily. Much like you never forgave me for that slip of the tongue to this day. "

Lily scowled. "You betrayed—"

"I acknowledge it," he said curtly. "I wanted power and I wanted you, Voldemort offered me both and I sold out your husband and children. I will not forget the sins I've committed, Lily, nor will I expect to be forgiven for them. Even now I will admit that I have not changed much barring your involvement and the sheer fact you show as much professionalism to me as you do is a miracle alone.

"What I am saying is that it will be hard to prevent because the boy has vengeance on his mind and the path it leads to is never one that can be fully corrected without closure. Even then, it is a fragile recovery depending on how much of his life it consumes." Snape took a long sigh. "However, I shall do what I can."

"Thank you…Sev."

Hearing her address him by his nickname for the first time in years made his cold heart warm a little. He knew it was just so that he would do it. Lily would do anything for her children, including allowing him delude himself in thinking that it was a small step forward to how they used to be the best of friends.

He didn't mind.

* * *

_Some Time Later_

On the fields outside the castle, Harry brandished his wand and steadied his trembling hands. This wand had been used to kill. Even if not directly, it was a murderer's weapon.

"_Noctis Fluxio!_" Darkness poured out of his wand against the rock outcropping, eroding it centimeter by centimeter, before he withdrew the stream to the tip of his wand and it spiraled into a black-rimmed orb that was fired like a cannon ball at the outcropping. "_Vorago Sphaera!_"

On impact the darkness expanded and the swallowed itself like a miniature black hole, imploding at clearing out a section of the outcropping and leaving smooth remains. Harry dropped to his knees in exhaustion at the drain of a spell—

"_Just like that apprentice…_"

—before the ghostly voice of Quirrell echoed in his ears. Harry and turned and searched for the mentor to no avail. He was gone, his body cremated with the condition it was in.

"Just another hallucination…" Harry muttered, grasping the violet scarf around his neck, before making his way to his new haunt. The last few nights had been Hell for Harry, so he found himself going to Myrtle's bathroom for comfort, quiet, and a place to brew a custom Sleeping Draught. The pre-teen made his way back to the bathroom and was greeted by its more permanent resident.

"Cheer up Harry," Myrtle said. "A boy as young as you shouldn't look so dead inside."

"Could he come back as a Ghost?" Harry asked. The contents of the question were obvious.

"Harry…"Myrtle attempted to lay a hand on his shoulder and comfort him, but the limitations of her half-life prevented it. "Believe it or not, you probably spared him from such a fate."

Unable to live. Unable to die. Only to linger in the realm of the living while being unable to interact with ease, watching as friends and enemies, descendants and generations leave the world behind until no one who you knew could be reached.

Ghosts were truly pitiful yet fascinating creatures in Harry's eyes.

"Oh, lookie what Peeves' found!" The poltergeist wandered into the bathroom, intent on the usual routine of tormenting Myrtle. What did they expect? He was chaos given form after all and she was an easy target. "Lil' Murderer Potter and the Cry Baby."

"Get out of here Peeves," Harry warned. The poltergeist had gotten it all over school that he was a murderer and most of the castle was terrified of him. Even Terry and the others kept their distance in their house. "Mess with Myrtle again, and you'll be as terrified of me as you are of the Bloody Baron!"

"Oooh, the big bad murderer is making threats—"

"_Phasmatis Canis!_" He summoned a Gytrash, fully-formed and ready for action as he applied the Oppugno Jinx. "**Get. Him.**"

Have you ever heard a poltergeist scream as a Gytrash attempted to rip out its short and bulgy neck? Well, Harry and Myrtle can say they have. While neither was particular fond of overt violence, there was something soothing about just vengeance being wrought upon the poltergeist. It wouldn't kill the chaos, but it could hurt it.

When the day to leave Hogwarts finally arrive, Harry breathed a sigh of relief and one of anger. The relief was that he didn't have to see any of the bastards in his house for a few months. The anger was because they'd gotten one last slight over on him. Letters hovering over his trunks denounced him a murderer and his items were thrown about. Luckily nothing was stolen and his important notes were kept reduced in his pouch on his person.

Then again, stealing from someone they called a murderer would be suicidal, wouldn't it?

He was a murderer, and would not allow himself to think otherwise. But he wouldn't let others call him one. Only someone who had stained their hands for the sake of another had the right to call him that.

Not a bunch of emotionally-driven, academically-ravenous teens.

"Mr. Potter?" Harry's Head of House's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Professor Flitwick," Harry said, keeping his eyes down as he packed his trunk with the scattered articles and mentally swore to learn more locking charms. No, screw the locks—he was going into booby traps! No mercy. "Is there something wrong?"

"No…well," he waved his wand and several books appeared. "These were apparently willed to you by our dear departed Quirrell."

Harry noticed the one on top was a copy of Quirrell's Ghoul Studies book, _Spectral Beings and Spells_. There were notes all over some of the pages as he thumbed through it. "Why me?"

"We believe that before…He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named completely possessed him, he felt a kinship to you," the short professor told him. "Mind you, we had to check these for any traps or particularly dark knowledge that was unsuitable for you. Headmaster Dumbledore cleared them today."

"I see…" Harry touched his scarf tenderly and then took the books and added them to his trunk. "Thank you, Professor Flitwick."

On the train ride, he read through the book he had been willed in his empty compartment as the door slid in and Terry came in with Padma and Isobel. He made a mental note that they seemed to have caution looks on their faces, even though Terry and Padma were practically dragging in Isobel.

Sitting down on the opposite side of him with the others, Terry asked a simple question. "How've you been, Harry?"

"Given you've been ignoring me since Quirrell's death, it begs the question of why you chose now to appear and ask." Harry answered, his eyes never leaving the book. "Let me guess, you figured I wouldn't murder you on the train ride home since there was no way to stash the bodies? Or was it because with everyone going home and excited, they'd never notice you slipping into the same compartment as the sole murder at Hogwarts."

"It was just that…" Padma trailed off, searching for the proper words.

Isobel filled in for her. "You were declared a murder, a professor was dead, and you were in the infirmary and no one else was allowed in until the Headmaster declared otherwise. It didn't look good for you. We couldn't be seen with you for our own sakes."

"Your cold and blunt honesty is both refreshing and heartless at the same time," Harry said. "I don't know whether to be hurt or impressed by the sheer and factual way you said that to save your own reputations you cut me off…well, you I can understand, but not the other two."

"What were we supposed to think?" Padma asked.

"Think for yourselves," Harry's eyes narrowed as he closed the book. "I did the same thing I did when that troll was about to finish you and Granger: what I had to in order to save Gene's life. For it, I lost the man I mentored under, can't get to sleep without sleeping draughts, and I'm stuck there with a reputation as a murderer and a potential Dark Wizard."

"If it's that bad, why not leave?" Isobel asked plainly, stating the obvious solution. "My sister mentioned that with your reputation affecting Hogwarts, once it gets around given the sheer number of people who know and will tell their parents, you'd most likely be expelled to save face. You could always leave before then."

"Dumbledore won't expel me and James and Lily won't let me leave," Harry answered. "Hogwarts isn't the only magical school, but with the Headmaster's backing and the fact that those two are my legal guardian's means I don't have a say on that front. I tried to see if I could get a transfer to Durnstram, but that wasn't happening since too many factors involving Gene, James, Lily, and Dumbledore are involved. They say Hogwarts is the safest place for me to be nine months out of the year."

"You were going to leave?" Terry asked aghast. "We're your friends."

"More like acquaintances," Isobel stated. Padma elbowed her in the ribs slightly.

"Would it have mattered?" Harry asked. "When I was in that Hospital Wing, the only ones who visited were Dumbledore, Snape, Gene, James, Sirius and Lily. Four of them I wanted nothing to do with, one questioned me about my crime, and the other did the same but gave me advice that I intend to take to heart."

He may not have known it, but professor Snape had defined a path for Harry to take. "Even after I got out, where were any of you…friends or acquaintances?"

They were silent.

"_Myrtle_ was the only one who actually listened to me and tried to understand me," Harry said with heat in his voice. "When I was actively grieving over the life of a man who became a slave to one who offered him more power rather than reaching for it himself, none of you were there—not for fake sympathies or crap, but to at least counter the sheer number of lies floating around our house calling me a Dark Wizard in the making or stop them from violating my privacy and tossing my belongings around!"

That last one was directed to Terry since they shared a bunk in the first-year dorms. He was again met with silence.

"Hogwarts isn't safe," Harry said, recalling thrice he nearly died in one year and deciding to not waste his time trying to point out their betrayal to him any further. "No matter what they say, any school that has enough hazards to warrant as many close encounters and safety hazards as this one leaves me wondering if the standards for magical safety are up to code. Between Bullies, Peeves, the Forbidden Forest—I am not coming back here unprepared next year. I will train my ass off since I am stuck here, and Merlin help anything or anyone that gets in my way.

"As for you three, either you can stay by my side or you can stay out of my way."

Harry spent the rest of train ride alone until they reached the station. Once there, he cast a Bedazzling Hex and slipped past his parents to catch the Knight Bus out to Diagon Alley to see his favorite witch.

She was pleased to see him. "Hey Harry. I hadn't seen you in awhile. I found your aunt Petunia's number and address from when you asked me not too long ago."

_Ah, leverage,_ Harry thought, before switching over to the matter at hand. "Sherry, can you hold the pouch and stuff in it. I have a feeling I'm going to be in trouble and don't want my parents finding anything."

The American witch raised an eyebrow. "Why? Harry, did you do something…?"

"Umm…how much do you know about what happened in July at school?"

"Nothing, why?"

"I'll be straight," Harry gathered his courage. She and Arthur were the only people he cared enough about to worry what they thought. "I killed a professor before he could kill me. I can't give you the exact details because of an oath though."

She looked aghast. "A-are you serious?"

"I wouldn't lie about that," Harry told her. "Not to you. I…I need sleeping draughts to get to sleep."

"Oh Harry…" she rushed over and gave him a hug.

"You'll hear about it once it gets around, being Gene's brother and all…" Harry said. "I considered the man a mentor and he willed some books over to me—I don't want them to take them from me because he made a mistake. It wasn't his fault and I-I didn't…."

"_Shh…_" she told him petting his hair while she embraced him. In her arms, he allowed himself to cry. "_Let it out.._."

For the moment, he was simply a boy who could act his age and cry at the loss of someone important to him.


	6. Chapter 5

**Lessons from Thieves**

After Harry's unexplained absence from the train station, as you would expect his parents and Sirius were less than pleased and cornered him when he got home, while his brother watched. Between the events of school and his behavior so far, they were both and angry and worried. So as soon as he got back from his excursion, they told him to tell them where he was.

"No," was the response he gave them. Repeatedly.

"We have ways of making you talk son," James warned after the umpteenth time. "If I have to bring in a truth serum or hex you into talking then I will. Answer the question."

Harry's response was a challenge. "Then do it. If you think I'm distant now, intentional poison and cursing me will make you parents of the year I'm sure. Or what, you'll take my memories too?"

James scowled, but Lily placed a calming hand on his shoulder and took the lead. "Harry, please let us help you. You've been through a lot and need someone to rely on."

"I don't want to help. Not from you," he finished, heading for his room…only for a spell to hit him and his legs went right back to a chair to sit him down in. Harry huffed. "I'm telling you, we don't want to have this discussion. The truth will not be pleasant."

Sirius took a different approach. "It must've been a Disillusionment Charm for him to slip past us."

"Bedazzling Hex," Harry corrected on a subconscious thought.

Sirius gave a nod at the accomplishment. "It must've took you some time to get that down, but you've tipped your hand too soon. They'll always be on the lookout for you using that spell."

"I'll pick up some new ones then."

"Where did you learn to do that in the first place?" James asked. "You didn't interact with anyone who would be old enough to use that spell enough from what we gathered on your school life. Was it whoever you were owling?"

"None of your business," Harry stated.

"Harry, talk to us," Lily said, keeping her patience. "We just want to help and grow closer as a family."

"I…don't…care," Harry stated once more. "I don't want to be closer. I want to be left alone to take my sleeping draught and get to sleep."

James stuck with the stern hand approach. "You are just a child, who is supposed to be listening to his parents for his own safety. Yet we're trying to help you and you keep rebelling against us. Honestly Harry, you've gotten more detention than the Marauders together in one year."

Harry scoffed. "Safety? You're not even there for nine months out of the year. We've been attacked by trolls, Voldemort, and ignorant classmates divided by a stupid housing system that leaves them ill-prepared for interacting with those of a different house—a different nature to their own.

"And I'm fully aware I'm being rebellious and to many it seems unfair or unjust," Harry agreed. "I'm not a nice person overall to most people and I've accepted that—both the consequences and benefits that come with it—but that Marauders crack was just low. Most times I got punished it was self-defense…or payback. You guys earned your detentions. "

"Low?" Sirius honestly sounded offended at that. "How could you not like the Marauders?"

"You were bullies," Harry said coldly. "Even Lily refused to date James until he got his act together somewhat. If you've been following my detention record, you can tell I really dislike bullies and follow the eye for an eye code."

"That wasn't bullying!" Sirius argued. "That was pranking!"

"Pranks are only funny to everyone but the victim," Harry rebutted. "Pranks are mean-spirited. Pranking is bullying, which is why me and the Weasley Twins have a business agreement about what happens if they pull it on me or someone I tell them not to. Not only do I revoke their right to sell my Howler Busters, but I show them a few of the curses I've learned. I'd like them to not bully anyone in general, but then I'd be forcing my orders down their throat like a dictator."

"An eye for an eye makes the world blind," Lily pointed out, getting back on track.

Harry's counter-argument was surprisingly dark. "Then everyone will be equal in the darkness."

Sirius, still not satisfied with the previous answer, tried another approach and broke up the pending debate. "Harry, we admit to causing a bit of trouble, but no one got hurt."

"You tried to kill a man as a prank," Harry pointed out. "James still gloats about Professor Snape owing a Life Debt because you tried. If Remus had killed him, that would have gotten him sent to Azkaban, or since he was cursed with being a werewolf, had him executed for the safety of others. Not to mention Dumbledore would have come under fire for allowing a werewolf to attend. You put your best friend, the Headmaster, and another student in danger—for a prank."

Finally Sirius said, "Snivellus was an arse!"

"Sirius!" Lily yelled at him for cursing in front of the boys and interrupting her efforts.

"So that gives you the right to attempt to murder him," Harry asked. "If this discussion was bought before an unbiased Auror at the time, you'd wind up in Azkaban. At least I confessed up to killing Qurriell out of self-defense and felt regret to the point I can still see his corpse in my mind as clear as day, but you're hiding behind the past and don't feel guilty in the slightest."

Sirius tried to find a way to go against that, but looking back there was a hell of a lot that could've gone wrong and…well, he didn't feel bad about Snape, but he could've screwed over Remus and Dumbledore. "I got nothing, but I should go apologize to Remus for that."

He apparated away.

"Honestly, I don't even want to go to Hogwarts anymore," Harry said. "As I told a few others on the train, I couldn't care less if I was expelled from the school. I've got no reason to want to go anywhere Gene has been."

"Harry, you know that Gene didn't ask for his life to be what it is," Lily stated placidly.

"I understand Gene didn't want to be the Boy-Who-Lived," Harry stated. "It was that or we'd both be dead. That's the reason I haven't gone out of my way to make his life a living nightmare, even now. Mindless revenge over things people can't control is pointless. I was content not even speaking with him until he hit me with the very spell James stole from Professor Snape and tried to lecture me about who I could talk with."

"You sold me out to Slytherin!" Gene exclaimed.

"No, I gave him an answer to a question and we weren't even sorted then," Harry told him. "House divisions and points mean nothing to me. At this point the professors don't bother subtracting or adding points from me because as a disciplinary action it holds no effect on me. They stick with detention if I'm bad and as long as I get my work done with good marks, I'm galleon."

"Potters have been going to Hogwarts for generations," James said. "Besides, if you get kicked out of one school, what makes you think you'll get into another considering your conduct? Your wand could very well be snapped."

"Then I can get a new wand and teach myself with the dozen or so books I have, or, if it comes to it, leave the magical world," Harry pointed out. "In the Mundane world there are many other public schools with less…fatal educational hazards. I already intended to apply for an educational equivalent of a high school degree when I can and find a college abroad."

Okay, now they really were worried about him. A blatant disregard for punishments suited for his age and a backup plan should he get kicked out of school. That couldn't be good in someone his age. He was planning on leaving his old life behind, had no friends according to himself, and falling for the Dark Arts…

_Oh God,_ Lily thought. She looked her husband and whispered, "_He's just like Sev was…_"

"Harry, dear," Lily said cautiously. "I've seen a dear friend go the same way you are and it's a lonely path filled with regret."

"If it's the path I chose for myself I won't regret it," he replied calmly. Tired of this, he decided to change the subject. He looked at his mother. "By the way, did you know that your sister has a son?"

Lily blinked. "Petunia? She hasn't spoken to me since James and her husband had a falling out. How did you…?"

"I looked her up," Harry said. "She was reluctant to talk to me since she hadn't heard from you in years and her obvious dislike of the magical world. Well, more like hate, but we spoke long enough for me pick up some information and a promise not to come within a mile of their home or contact them again…she didn't say anything about you though."

Lifting her hand to cover her mouth, Lily sunk into thought. "But she hates our side of things…"

"No, she immensely dislikes the magical world because you were gifted and she wasn't as a child," Harry said. "James is rich by wizard standards and all, meaning you got power, money, and fame since Gene is the Boy-Who-Lived, while she lives an ordinary life. I can relate to her because I'm stuck under Gene's shadow as long as I'm a Potter and you've doted on him much like your parents did to you, so I really get where she's coming from."

"Harry, we don't—" Lily was cut off when Harry raised his hand, not wanting to go back to the subject.

"But the real reason she dislikes the magical world it because it took _you_ away from her as a child," Harry stated. "You were gone for most of the year, came back to show off in front of her for a few months, and then were gone again. Even now, do you know the first thing she asked me when I called her?"

Lily shook her head.

"She asked 'Did something happen to my sister?'" Harry told her. Granted, there was a 'Freak' in that sentence, but he was driving a point across. "You may have been mundane-born, but you've become so entrenched in this world that you've lost touch with your own sister and she only thought she'd be contacted if you were murdered or something. At least I went out of my way to save Gene."

"I…" Lily looked a bit lost as she walked away. "I'll go see if I can send her an owl or something…"

_Well, that's two down,_ Harry thought. _Wasn't nice and I'll go through Hell for it later…now, how do I get James to drop it? He has nothing I can use against him…ah, yes._

"Look, we both know Voldemort is coming back or half-back at this point," Harry stated. "Rather than trying to interrogate me, why not get Gene up to date on his skills so he doesn't end up a sacrificial lamb?"

James wasn't buying it. "That was a very cold thing you did to your mother and uncle. Your mother has often spent many nights wondering about her sister, and you knew it, didn't you?"

Harry dropped his impassive mask and got serious. "I told you I didn't want to have this discussion. I don't _have _to forgive you all for neglecting me, only to take an interest when it came between choosing between Voldemort or Gene."

"Regardless of whether or not you forgive us, you are still a child," the adult stated. To be fair he had a point. "And you were right. I was a bully, but I got my act together. My past doesn't define who I am today. What's your excuse for being one?"

"I am not a bully!" Harry shouted.

"Maybe not physically, but what you did to your mother and uncle—who were patient with you despite everything—was emotional bullying. As for school, you may be following the 'eye for an eye' theorem, but that rarely works out in the long run. As you said, all are equal in the dark, only because you can't see the monster you've become in the end.

"Now, since you can't tell us where you went today,"—James nodded to the stairs—"you are grounded for a month. Leave your wand. You can use it for homework only until the period of punishment is up. Since you like your muggle books and plan on leaving when you're older, you can study them as well."

"Fine by me," Harry shrugged, before adding a sarcastic, "Glad we had this talk."

* * *

_A Month Later_

The month gave him time to think—and get a start on his homework, being a Ravenclaw and all—but most of his thoughts didn't linger on the topics of school or the mundane, but rather that of Voldemort. What drove someone into becoming like a psychopath who sought immortality at the expense of the lives of others? What made him the man he was today?

As Professor Snape said, he knew nothing of the enemy he loathed with a passion. It wasn't like he could find a psychopath to follow around and get a feel for, not without being killed. And he couldn't act the part without coming off as an idiot or sinking into it. He had to start out fresh—learn about what drove criminals and society's outcasts at a base-level.

So Harry would learn how the criminal mind would think.

It just so happened that the Weasley Twins told him of a supplier for what he might have needed for improved Howler Busters, because eventually the people who made the Howlers would make them resistant. They all knew that, so he had been planning on something a little stronger in the works. That same supplier was someone his parents and Sirius often spoke of as the lowest level of the criminal pyramid: The Petty Thief.

After grabbing a letter and putting it in an envelope, Harry pocketed it into his pouch with intent to have it delivered by a common postal owl to Myrtle and left his room in common street clothes since he had the intention of going through mundane territory as well.

"Where are you going?" Gene asked as he spied Harry heading down the stairs.

"None of your business," was his response as he headed to the fireplace to use the Floo. He had to admit, it was one of the perks magicals had over mundane. Grabbing the powder and throwing it in, he said, "My month is up and I've got things to do. Diagon Alley!"

Cold flames washed over his skin as he entered and was taken from point A to point B, stumbling as he landed and taking a moment to center himself. For a brief second he considered going to retrieve his important items from Sherry, but there was a chance his parent's had a tracking spell or eyes sent out to watch for him and he lacked the Bedazzling Hex without his wand. So, after dropping the letter off, he searched for the thief he sought, finding him in one of the five haunts the twins mentioned—an out of the way alley this time. There was a man there, short with ginger hair and brown eyes that widened a bit when he saw Harry.

"Mundungus Fletcher?" Harry asked, just to be certain.

He nodded, an inquisitive brow raised. "I know you. You're that Auror James's other boy. What brings a privileged one like you here? If it's about those accusations, he's got no proof and—"

"Look, I came on my own and this is pure business. The Twins told me to come see you about acquiring supplies through some less-reputable means when we were talking not too long ago? I need to get my hands on a few catalysts with some being illegal to own before adulthood, books on multiple subjects, and other things—and I need them discreetly and possibly to learn how to procure such material in the future by myself."

"It's gonna cost you," he said after a moment. He was used to smuggling goods for the Weasley Twins and less-than-stellar other youngsters, so this was nothing new. "And I assume you have money that can't be traced back to your parent's vaults? Between the risk of the Goblins revolting again while handing all the banks and the chance of it being traced back, I'd rather coin or barter up front."

As he pulled out some of the galleons he made from his Howler Busters, two strands of the Unicorn Hair fell onto the ground, and Mundungus snatched them up quickly. With a keen eye, he recognized it. "Unicorn Hair?"

"Yeah…?" Harry's eyebrow rose, letting the galleons fall into his pocket after seeing the man's eyes light up. "I got them from the Forbidden Forest in Hogwarts."

"Those hairs are worth ten galleons a strand, right up there with Threstral Hairs…and I just so happen to know some backdoor wand makers who need some that I can charge at a higher rate. If you've got a few more, we can do business."

Harry pulled out the rest and the man's eyes lit up further, like a Christmas tree. "You'll get two hairs for every answer. Deal?"

No sense in wasting easy money for a few questions. "What do you need and want to know?"

"To start with: The Trace," Harry told him. "I need to know how to deceive it. I figured a thief such as yourself would know."

"Thief is such a harsh word…" He steepled his fingers. "Appropriation Expert is more fitting. Exactly how good are you with potions?"

"One of the best in my year," Harry stated.

"You're only a First year, so not very," he incorrectly summed up. Harry brushed it aside for the sake of information gathering. "Here's the thing age potions don't fool it because it monitors your magical core's age, not physical, much like an age line."

"Then what can I use for it?" he asked. When the thi—appropriation expert made a gesture for him to pony up he gave him two hairs. He gave them to the man.

"There's another reason things that enhance your magical ability are illegal, it causes an overflux," he stated, pocketing the strands. "By making your magical core produce more magic than the set amount per age range you can fool it temporarily, until it settles down. It's not without risks, but it's much cleaner than simply trying to break The Trace, which is illegal—well,_ more_ illegal. "

"If I wanted to say, become an expert in your field of choice, how would I go about it." Harry asked next, handing over the hairs.

"First Lesson in Appropriations 101: Learn to read lips," he said. "Privacy wards can stop sounds, but rarely do they attempt to stop visual as well for conversations. You should also have a good means of escape."

"What about apparating?" Another two hairs given.

"Nah," he answered. "Too risky and noisy if you aren't good at it. There are too many ways to screw up apparition since they rely on your own magic, like an Anti-apparation jinx or a Splinching Curse to make anyone who tried pay for it—not that it's legal to know such a thing. All good appropriations experts of my caliber know how to make a portkey to a safe house…although the Black Family's defenses were tricky to get around."

"I remember that, my uncle complained you stole some of his silver…how _did _you steal Sirius's silver?" Harry asked incredulously. "I've been told they've been cursed if anyone outside the Black Family took them from the house. Yet you still draw breath?"

Another gesture for payment and said payment later, Mundungus answered with "I broke the curse obviously."

Harry looked at him with skeptical eyes. "You know how to break curses?"

"Kid, I appropriate from witches and wizards. People who tend to get curse-happy when you take from them and have been trained in using a versatile tool called a 'wand' since childhood. That's another two hairs."

"How…you don't exactly look like cursebreaker-material," he said, handing over four hairs for this and the previous question, tacking on a quick, "no offense meant."

"You'd be surprised how easy it is to…_appropriate _a cursebreaker's notes and books once they were no longer around," he said, not really taking offense since he'd been called worse to his face. It was an occupational risk. "They tend to leave behind widows who are only all too eager to be rid of their deceased's reasons for entering the next great adventure."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You steal from widows?"

"Well, it's not like they need or can use the stuff," he shrugged, continuing the trade and noticing the boy still had about ten hairs left. "Besides, it's not like I do anything more than a confusion or stunner. I may be an appropriations expert, but guys like us operate at a semi-civil level—not like Death Eaters used to or the really dirty guys. I mean, if I was really sleazy I'd just stun you and take those hairs, modifying your memories on my way out to go get a drink…by the way, never meet with someone in a shady alley without being ready to draw."

"…noted," Harry said unsettled. The man before him, referred to as a petty criminal, had a decent skill set if his words were true. "If you're that skilled, why are you a thief?"

"That's a long and personal story," he said bitterly, rubbing his chin. "It's going to cost you all of the hairs you've got, non-negotiable."

It was worth it and he had no further need of the hairs. He handed five hairs over. "Half now and half when finished, start talking."

Mundungus clicked his teeth and sighed as he put them away. "Let's see, I was born about 1960 or so in a place in Ireland to a mundane mum and some wizard I don't really give two shakes about even now, out of a one-night stand. When she got pregnant and tried to find him, he obliviated her sloppily—after all, merely pointing a wand and casting the spell is risky, hence there are specialized departments for things that tamper with memories—and left her unaware of how she was pregnant and caused a falling out with her parents.

"We weren't well off and to survive we did what we had to until the wizard who sought me out for my education at Hogwarts was 'kind' enough to point out how I was conceived and then she was made to forget. That angered her and she wanted her memories back since the spell only covered up the memories. He undid the spell's effects and when I left home for schooling, paid through a fund of Hogwarts since the wizarding population is low and several alumni contribute, she sought retribution against the guy. The next thing I knew I was receiving a notice both were dead—murder-suicide."

Harry looked pale. "I'm…sorry, I—"

"Yeah, yeah, let me finish," Mundungus said. Sympathy wouldn't bring her back. "You paid, so listen. Anyway, during the three months we weren't at school I had to stay at an orphanage of sorts for magicals, crappy food and ramshackle walls, where a couple of the guys took it upon themselves to make things better by depriving society of what it deprived them. "

Harry blinked. "You joined a ragtag guild of thieves?"

"Now, I take offense to that," he crossed his arms, "we're a network of appropriations experts, even now. Once a member, always a member…unless you rat them out to the proper authorities like that weasel did. Sure, I can understand looking out for yourself. We all can and I probably would have bought him a drink and had a laugh about it if it didn't get me a stint in Azkaban. Who lets soul-sucking creatures inhabit a prison for petty theft?

"Anyway, once you're branded an ex-convict, most job opportunities are scarce, forcing you to go back to what you were put in for to make a living and survive. After I was bailed out of trouble by a hastily accused murder—which I won't go into details—by Dumbledore, I avoided the network and did my own thing. Story end, now pay up."

"Do they have an apprenticeship program?" Harry asked on an off-chance. "This network you speak of?"

"Not for you," he said, plucking the last of the hairs. "Sorry kid, you're related to an Auror and from a noble house. That screams too risky and they'd never take you."

"Right," Harry replied. First time that being well-off hindered him for certain.

"One last thing," the older man added. "Just because someone has a sympathetic background, it doesn't mean what they're doing is anything less than what it is. If you think otherwise they'll take advantage of you and think nothing of it. Tragic story or not, I have no intention of changing what it is I do and kindness is exploitable."

"Noted," Harry said before making arrangements for some catalysts to be delivered to him later on and leaving.

_Two-hundred and sixty galleons in five minutes,_ Mundungus thought. "Not a bad morning."

With his tasks on the magical side of things done and the lack of a wand, along with not wanting to deal with his parents or brother at the moment, Harry left the alley and went out towards the mall to visit the arcade.

The sounds of machinery and games, children of various ages who weren't looking at him with eyes that spoke of fear, envy, or hatred, the atmosphere itself felt different than that of Hogwarts and he missed it dearly. It was his slice of Heaven compared to everything else. Nine months of ancient castles and classes only made being here sweeter.

"Haven't seen you around here in a while," a familiar voice said. Harry turned to come face to face with a lean, but tall pre-teen who hung out with him whenever he came before, Aaron. "Where you been?"

"My parents sent me to a boarding school and I'm back on break." Harry answered.

"Is that the reason you have these weird coins?" Aaron asked. Harry blinked, so he showed him he had gotten some of the magical currency he kept in his pocket rather than his pouch.

"They're from the country I was in…Switzerland," he lied. "Yeah, let's go with that. Can I have them back?"

The older boy handed them back. "Can't use 'em, so why not?"

This time putting them away in his pouch, the young wizard asked, "How did you do that?"

"You want me to show you how to pickpocket?" Harry nodded. "It's going to cost you some real money."

_Man today is turning out to be expensive,_ Harry whined in his head as he pulled his wallet from an inside pocket of his jacket and presented it to him. It was his movie/arcade fund, but some sacrifices were needed. "Just take as much as you want."

Aaron looked at him as he grew a second head as he carefully grabbed the wallet, his mind altering between disgust at the casual way he handed over the money and why he wanted to learn so bad he would pay up. Still, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he emptied the wallet completely and handed it back to a waiting Harry, who seemed to expect it. Counting the cash, he quickly put it away after he was done and said, "Follow me."

Thus began the impromptu lesson in pickpocketing, with the chosen class being the streets as pedestrians walked past while Aaron showed him the ropes until Harry tried for himself. A part of him realized it was wrong, but he was doing it for a greater purpose.

The police officer who had spotted them mid-theft thought otherwise. "Hey!"

Aaron swore under his breath and grabbed Harry. "You were made, come on!"

With Harry being unfamiliar in this part of the city, he had Aaron lead him with the cop on their rear, grateful he kept his cardio up. But as long as they were on the main street it was only a matter of time before they were caught. Both of them knew that, so Aaron led him to an alley with a seven-foot stone bulwark between it and the exit.

"This is a dead end!" Harry told him, still running towards it.

Aaron didn't reply, going at the wall on the side of the fence and and leaping up and kicking off it to get the necessary height to scale it. On top of it, he extended his hand for Harry to grab and pulled him over as the officer closed in, narrowly missing Harry by a foot as they both hopped down on the other side, buying precious minutes.

Aaron sighed as he took the cash out of the wallet Harry stole and then tossed it back over for the cop to return it, minus the pounds he took out of it. He couldn't use the credit cards anyway. Looking back at Harry, he motioned for him to follow him as the shorter of the two was still panting. "Come on, let's hit the store."

Harry followed silently as they entered a supermarket and Aaron bought groceries and had him help carry them into what could only politely be described as slums, weather-worn bricks forming ramshackle buildings that looked worse on the interior, cries from babies and youths alike with parents either yelling or consoling. It unnerved Harry. "This is where you live?"

"Yeah," Aaron admitted as he stopped in front of a door with a crack running through it and fished out a key from his pocket to open it. The door revealed what was a rather small apartment as he had Harry set the bags on the countertop of the kitchen.

"Aaron?" an older and feminine voice called for him as the owner entered the room. She had to be around Harry's mother's age he figured, but the difference was that she seemed older with wrinkles and occasional strands of grey hair mixed in with black that was in a ponytail. She looked between the boys and the groceries and said, "Who's your friend?"

"He's a pal of mine who goes to a boarding school and came back for a few days," Aaron told her.

She sighed as she looked at Harry. "You didn't drag this child into this did you?"

"He volunteered," Aaron defended. "Where's Sophie?"

"I'm going to go pick her up from her grandmother's now," his mother stated, taking a momentary glance at the other boy and the groceries and then looking…tired. "Just…don't let him _help_ you again, you hear?"

Aaron nodded and she left out, leaving the two alone for the moment. Harry was polite enough not to comment on anything about the circumstances, but Aaron saw the question in his eyes about the look she had at the end and how placid she seemed about what was done. "She knows I did what I had to do to get these, but she doesn't like it."

"She didn't seem mad about it though," Harry said.

"Not mad," he huffed. "She's used to it. As long as my little sister doesn't know about it since she's just out of Kindergarten. Smart one already she is, gotta future ahead of her. I'm a lost cause though until I get old enough to find some work. Until then, I do what I gotta do."

Harry helped him put away the groceries and then had Aaron walk him towards the more populated street as the sunset to avoid him getting into trouble with the locals, giving him time to think about the circumstances both Aaron and Mundungus both lived in. Both were criminals and didn't deny that to themselves. They were just doing what they had to in order to survive.

Snipe told him he didn't understand the mind of the person he hated the most or his followers, who were typically either wealthy pure-blood elitists or guys looking to blame others for their misfortune and sought galleons and glory, and he still didn't. But he saw just how narrow his view was. Having his father, though distant, being an Auror and wealthy had him see things from one point of view rather than the same view that those two had. Even though the Weasleys were impoverished they never resorted to crime, staying on the good side of the law.

But for the two he went with today, things were deeper shades of grey, surviving by depriving others of what they had despite the consequences. It was a step in the right direction for learning what he needed to, but he could help but feel there was so much that could be done for them both though, a different path taken with some guidance. The wizard could break curses, yet had to resort to petty theft and moving merchandise because of a stint in Azkaban, and Aaron saw himself as a lost cause due to poverty, only pinning his family's hopes for the future on his baby sister.

_All in all, today has been productive in some aspects and a sobering realization of how cruel the world could be just because—_Harry's thoughts ended when he was grabbed and felt like he was squeezed through a tube, finding himself at his home. He eyed his kidnapper and noticed it was his uncle. "You do realize you could've splinched me, right?"

"Side-along Apparations rely on the one doing the jumping's skill, which I am proficient in," Sirius stated.

"Uh-huh, sure," Harry scoffed before turning his attention to the others. "Was it really that difficult to just wait until I came home on my own accord rather than kidnap me? Really?"

"Yes," James said. "Especially considering you aided and abetted a criminal today."

Harry blinked, before putting the pieces together. "You had Sirius follow me from the moment I told Gene to shove off and used the Floo to announce where I was going. If he was following me into the mall, he would have been in human form and under a spell since dogs aren't allowed."

"Explain yourself," was all James said.

"I refuse," Harry replied all the same. Sure, he could confess he was getting into the mindset of people fundamentally different than he was…but he wasn't on good terms with any of them, so why bother?

"Fine," James huffed. "You're grounded, again."

"Fine by me," Harry replied, much to his father's anger. "You just don't get it James, you have little power over me as long as I have to go to Hogwarts. There's not much you can do to me baring physical punishment or grounding, and for me that's hardly a hindrance."

James rubbed his chin and narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, before a smile grew on his face. "Actually, your mother and I have been discussing that and we've called in a favor. Pack your bags Harry, you're going on a little trip the day after tomorrow..."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "To where?"

James merely chuckled. "You could say a correctional program for wayward young wizards and witches, established by Madam Bones in an effort to curb future rouge elements. She claimed inspiration from the muggle world so you should be familiar with it."

"You're sending me to the magical equivalent of Boot Camp?" Harry growled lowly.

"You were right," James admitted. "There's only so much **I** can do, so I figured I'd let the experts handle it."

Harry exhaled deeply before meeting his father's gaze, defiance still in his eyes. "Bring. It. On. Then."


End file.
